


The Investment

by XxIrisxX



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dom/sub, Drama, Forced Marriage, M/M, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxIrisxX/pseuds/XxIrisxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When darkness threatens to rise, Thranduil agrees to an alliance with Thorin. But Thorin won't just take his word for it and Thranduil is desperate enough to agree to the conditions of an investment. Political marriage, Thorin/Thranduil</p>

<p></p><address> Translated by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavern/pseuds/Lavern">Lavern. </a>Fanart contributed by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/velvet_vampiress/pseuds/velvet_vampiress">velvet_vampiress.</a>
</address>  (Site mentioned in chapter 13).
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R Tolkien and the movies by Peter Jackson. I am only borrowing the characters for a bit.

As he was escorted to the royal hall, Thorin Oakenshield couldn't help but wonder what slight possibility of leverage he'd hope to gain from his meeting with the elven king.

Not much was said to him while he was being scrutinised by the guards. Not that they had any reason to. Not after they had captured him loitering in their home mysteriously...and not because he was 'lost and starving' as the last time.

"I'm not answerable to anyone." He mentioned proudly, "But how much is  _he_ curious is what's there to be seen."

The message was conveyed.

A response too was soon received.

The elven king wanted to see him, they said. This conveyed not nearly enough hint for Thorin to actually have his own hopes of leveraging over said king.

All he could gather was that Thranduil wanted something. Something so important that was worth some kind of negotiation.

And so he was taken to him.

Being shoved towards the abomination after climbing up a ridiculous large flight of stairs made Thorin to analyse every possible sense of the word 'haughty'. Not that he had much incentive or situation to roll his eyes at Elven elaborations but still...it was a thought and a very valid one.

Increased to manifolds by the sight of the equally ridiculous antlered throne that now came in unobstructed line of view.

Along with the horrifyingly repulsive sight of the very king himself sitting  _on_ the throne, one leg perched on another, chin casually resting upon the back of one while the tall and slender figure dismissively looked down.

The guards who were holding the shorter man now released him, taking steps back as the king waved an elegant hand at them.

_Antics._

Thorin waited, trying not to roll his eyes while his captor seemed to just stare at him. Apart from the fact that it was absolutely awkward and very disturbing he decided to indulge the other. He wouldn't risk of putting words in Thranduil's mouth without hearing what he'd have to say. He learned it the last time he—along with his company—were subjected to the not-so-hospitable dungeon and now being King under the mountain (albeit new), he knew better.

"Thorin Oakenshield." Thranduil spoke finally, "Can't say I'm least bit surprised, having to see you again under such a circumstance."

 _Damnation be to him,_ Thorin thought. How on earth could that infuriatingly silky voice be so playful and so obnoxious at the same time?

"Although I'm more interested to know what need you could have in my woods, I think we can keep it aside for now." Thranduil spoke, drawing closer to the dwarf as a slow smile danced across his lips.

"And what could be so important that even  _Thranduil_ is willing to overlook my intrusion?" He jested back and snorted in amusement when he noticed the other king's smile faltering by a bit.

However if one thing the elf had that was insignificantly admirable was his control on every single fibre of his muscles.

Thranduil let the smirk waltz back on his lips as he spoke, beginning to circle the other.

"Nothing that I don't intend to revoke priority over, I assure you that."

Thorin snorted again but Thranduil ignored it.

"I fear great evil rising. I fear  _Sauron_ rising."

The elven king paused coming right in front of the other, hoping to gain Thorin's undiverted attention. And that, he did. Thorin looked up at the elf, eyes focused.

He was listening.

"How can you be sure of that?"

"I've been sure of it ever since Smaug had awoken from deep under the mountains. Sauron too awakens. Maybe not now, may be not for decades but his evil presence is imminent."

Thorin sighed deeply. As much as he loathed Thranduil and his kin, he had no reason to believe that all of what had been said was made up. Logically speaking, the darkness of Mirkwood, the trolls coming downhill, the increase of orcs...all had ominous indications and Thorin was very much aware of that.

"So what are you proposing?" He asked, not missing the diplomatic look in his counterpart's eyes.

"That you and I form an alliance." The other replied, waiting for Thorin's opinion. When none came, he elaborated, "Whatever security we can provide individually to our own realms, we can double that with both our realms combined. Not only our artillery would vary in type but also the skills in handling them and not to mention, the increase in number is certainly an advantage."

Thorin seemed to contemplate it for a moment. Thranduil seemed sincere. Almost believable...but...

"What guarantee do I have that you haven't already formed an alliance with some other party and that you won't blindside me? Do I have  _just_  your word? What was it? Ah yes,  _from one king to another?_ "

It was Thranduil's turn to frown. It was then that Thorin Oakenshield was every bit satisfied when the other's smugness wore off. After all, what did he expect? That Thorin would believe him blindly? Especially after the blasted elf turned his back on them when they needed him the most? Especially after he had come to aid when  _Bard's_ town was in danger?

He'd have to do better than that!

"So what do  _you_ propose?" The taller one said and it was just the opportunity that Thorin had been waiting for. It wasn't like he had been pondering it over for a long time. If anything, it was just the opposite. However, spontaneity was his forte and the idea that came to him in the heat of the moment was anything but  _brash_.

Most importantly, it provided  _leverage._

Thorin smirked while calculatingly focusing his gaze at the other.

"An investment."

Thranduil now was confused. His frown deepened and it was clear that Thorin had the entire weight.

"Of what?"

"Not what." Ah, it seemed so right. So satisfying! Maybe not equivalent to the unfairness that had been done to him all that time back but on Thranduil, it would be just as much unjust.

The elven king's eyes were narrowed at that. He was intuitive enough to know that something was going to be very,  _very_ wrong. And that whatever influence he thought he had over the dwarf was swiftly wavering.

"Then  _who?_ "

Thorin's smirk deepened. He could see the internal dilemma on the much controlled elven king's face. Whether he'd regret it later or not was not of importance at that point. The safety of his people was...as was a much deserved revenge.

A thickening silence stretched between the two as one tried to keep his calm and another tried to contain his excitement. When Thorin was sure that Thranduil completely preferred the safety of his realm and that he was scared and desperate  _enough_ , he finally mentioned his intent, tasting victory as the word rolled out of his mouth.

"You."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson owns the movies. I make no profit off them.
> 
> Warning: Just one phrase of Thorin. Because...it’s Thorin!
> 
> AN: I’m back! Let me take a moment to thank everyone who has kudo'd/reviewed/bookmarked. It made me really happy and I'm super excited to be updating.   
> Thanks all of you! :D

If in that very morning, somebody told Thranduil that he’d be facing a dwarf and negotiating alliances for the sake of keeping peace and said dwarf asking a payment of nothing but he _himself,_ Thranduil would’ve laughed.

Considering the present situation, Thranduil was in no laughing mood and said dwarf was in no mood to make fun jokes.

Instead he stood wide eyed, his mouth hanging ajar purely in shock.

He still couldn’t believe it. All that crossed his mind was— did he hear the other correctly?

“What did you say?” He asked in complete bewilderment and didn’t miss the other’s smirk extending even more taking in his surprise. “You want me to invest _myself_? Do you think I’d stoop so low?”

“Only if you’re desperate enough.” Thorin replied tactfully, his smugness utterly disgusting the elven king. “And you _are_ desperate.”

At this, Thranduil’s eyes flashed in pure rage. He breathed deeply, trying his best not to lash out at the insolent dwarf. How dare he be treated like that in his own realm? What did they think he was? A commodity to be bartered off? A slave to be handed over with terms and conditions?

He closed his hands in fists and squeezed them tightly. He said nothing but words weren’t needed to express the fury that he felt. His trembling body, rigid posture and flaring nostrils were more than enough to indicate so. 

However, he soon closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He exhaled a few more times before finally he felt his voice back in his throat. “This marriage yields my kingdom under your sole control.”

“ _This_ marriage yields greater amount of protection for _both_ kingdoms.”

Thranduil clenched his jaws tightly. Thorin was enjoying this and did no courtesy of keeping the playfulness out of his voice. Worse, he _knew_ how imminent the threat was and he _knew_ how Thranduil had limited options.

Still...those limited options— no matter how despondent they were— seemed far better than being a puppet of a foolish, haughty dwarf.

After a sick pause had passed, he replied finally in a strained and anger laced voice, “I shall not yield under such _preposterous_ agreement.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Thorin shrinking back his own smirk. He could _feel_ Thorin’s glare upon him as he turned his back on the other, raising his chin up elegantly while delivering his final impetus.

“Thorin Oakenshield, I will _not_ marry you.”

He glanced back at the other over his shoulders and saw the dwarf king grimacing dangerously. He looked like he was expecting a little more than those very clear and precise words but Thranduil could care less. He walked calmly towards his throne and glided back on it, perching one leg on top of another.

Thorin continued glaring at the elf. When he was met with nothing but silence and an ignorant closing of eyes, he turned his back and left.

 

* * *

 

 

Once outside Thranduil’s underground _bunker,_ Thorin asked with a snark to one of the guards, “No supplies then?”

His question went unanswered, which was least surprising. When the two guards shifted closer to each other completely blocking the door, Thorin understood that his welcome was overspent and now it was his best interest to leave.

_At least the tree shaggers didn’t keep Minty._

However all was not a total loss for him. Thankfully, be it shock or spite or simply a case of overlooking, Thranduil failed to ask why _he_ had been here in the first place. He was disturbed enough to come straight to his point. Of course the matter would cross the elf’s mind sooner or later but for now, Thorin had one up against him.

Not only would that keep the elf’s mind busy for a while (once he regained it), it would fuel his curiosity and would further drive him to acknowledge Thorin’s influence... _and_ dominance.

It was all good business.

 

* * *

 

 

“The spiders have been gathering at the southern borders again. So far, about ten have been spotted. There will be many. The more we wait, more will it become difficult to drive them out.”

Legolas gave the report, standing before the king. He was sent to patrol the southern borders by Thranduil with a small number of warriors. His purpose was to observe and then hatch a plan to weed out the root of the problem.

The king drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne while he listened intently to the prince. Legolas was right. There would be more and they’d gather soon. As long as they were out of Mirkwood, the elven king supposed that they had bought themselves a bit of time.

“Concentrating at the borders, you say?” He asked with a slight frown. “Are you absolute that none have breached in our realm?”

“Yet.”

 

Thranduil closed his eyes. He had a very bad notion of what the spiders were attempting to do. It wasn’t a petty motif of prey and proper like last time. It was more like they were barricading Mirkwood.

_Barricade and then close in._

“Ada,” his thoughts were interrupted soon and he looked up at his son who had a steely determination about him.

“Ada, their number is small. We could get rid of them. If we do nothing, more will gather. Harder will it be.” He saw Legolas shifting slightly when he didn’t respond. “If we send a message that our home is not a place to feast, I doubt they’ll invite more.”

“I doubt that they won’t.”

Legolas seemed confused. Why wouldn’t he be? Infestation was to be terminated at the very beginning—that was the solution and that was logical. So it was understandable that his son deemed it perplexing when he was asked to ignore any shred of logic by his much experienced father.

But what he needed to understand was that this wasn’t a case of mere infestation. It was the beginning of something far worse.

“Ada, I could take them.” He pleaded but Thranduil paid no heed.

“You will not.”

“Ada!”

 “You will _not_ Legolas! You will do nothing that involves anything brash!”

The prince persisted but Thranduil quickly cut him off. He began climbing down the stairs and as he did, he instructed the prince with orders that left no room for further argument.  “Send word out to prepare defences along the border. Defences, patrols and I shall be reported to once in every three days about the state of our borders. No troop shall launch an attack without my orders. No one will act further without being informed by me and me alone. Is that clear?”

Legolas said nothing.

“Legolas is that _clear_?”

“Yes. Ada.”

Legolas didn’t seem too pleased with it but he knew better than to question his father’s judgement. He nodded and stepped aside for his father to pass. He also seemed like wanting to say something else to the king. He hesitated and it showed on his face. However, since he said nothing, Thranduil didn’t press the matter any further. He had more concerning matters to attend to.

 _I need a reliable alliance. No, I first need a map of Middle Earth. Valar, I need a glass of_ wine _!_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Don't deny Thranduil his wine!
> 
> Thranduil: Or. Else.
> 
> Please review! :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine~
> 
> I want to thank everybody who've commented and sent kudos. It means a lot and I feel so encouraged. Thank you, everybody! 
> 
> I know I’m making Thorin seem like a jerk but I love him! I love Thorin. The poor guy is just a little gruff! It’s just that the plot demands it. I’m helpless. :’( Well no, not really but a happy and fluffy Thorin here would be so awkward and this fic would totally spiral out of control and you’d be left with a crazy author with her crazy rants. Uh...very much like this one. O.o Hm.   
> So, this chapter starts somewhat lightly. And after a whole paragraph, this is the only useful piece of info I’ve written. Hmmm...well...uh...Alright so this has been a LONG AN. I’ll shut up now. :P

Thranduil’s footsteps echoed throughout the long corridors and soon faded into the chambers. Thanks to his elf ears, Legolas could also pick up the sound of a door closing which in itself would be an otherwise impossible feat to achieve.

It wasn’t after a few awkward seconds of standing around when he finally snapped back into his senses and headed towards his father’s room. Gossip had it that the elven king was granted an unwanted visit by an old _friend_ while he was out. Rumour also had it that the elven king was made an obscene demand.

Well, at least the part of Thranduil tolerating the presence of said old _friend_ was true. Legolas himself saw a Thorin Oakenshield tottering away to his kingdom on his pony. Blame it on perfect timing.

The question was— what did he want?

Turning a corner, Legolas stopped. He tilted his head in contemplation and then retraced his steps till he reached the wine cellar. Ignoring the curious looks from two of the guards (and one did look like having a slight tinge on his cheeks), he sorted through the vintage bottles.

When he was satisfied with his choice of Dorwinion’s finest, he walked out of the cellar, nodding back to the guards on his way out.

 

* * *

 

 

 Legolas let out a mild sigh while he stood before ornate oak doors. He knew better than to disturb his father while the king wanted solitude but whatever was plaguing Thranduil’s mind must’ve been of immense magnitude. Why else would he give out stern orders of a lockdown? Legolas was familiar with this trait after all.

Clutching the bottle of wine tightly he breathed in and rapped gently on the door.

When no answer came at first, he called out to his father hoping to be let in.

“Ada?”

“It can wait,” came the king’s serious reply.

“What is it that bothers you?” He pleaded, “I understand the magnitude of danger that lurks, Ada. I see it in your face. I know it has something to do with last time’s infestation. I want to understand the threat so I can defend better.”

He stood back and frowned when his plead was met with shuffling sounds of paper.

“Ada, please. At least tell me what we must fear.”

Still nothing. Frustrated, he was about to turn away when the door opened, revealing the king himself with a strange look crossing his face.

Legolas shifted slightly as he looked back at his father— who seemed to stare at his face with a distance in his eyes. The same look the king had at times when he thought that none was watching...even Legolas himself.

He was about to ask what was wrong when he was abruptly forced to swallow back his words when Thranduil suddenly reached out and pried the vintage bottle from his son’s hands. Legolas half suspected of the other drinking it then and there but thankfully, the king silently asked him to enter while he went over to the wine cabinet to take out a glass.

Legolas held his tongue and looked over at the bed. Thranduil had a map of Middle earth sprawled all across it. In the background, he could hear a clink of glass touching glass, then a sound of liquid being poured followed by the mild clank of glass on wood as Thranduil gently set down the prized bottle.

He frowned slightly when none of his father’s antics made absolutely no sense to him.

“What vexes you?” He asked at which, the king began pacing back and forth.

“Ada...”

“Darkness surrounds us.” Thranduil finally responded, “Darkness that is building itself up slowly and surely.”

“It has to do with the infestation.”

Thraduil nodded, taking a sip from his glass.

“They are waiting for a suitable moment to strike,” Legolas pressed on at which Thranduil raised his head and closed his eyes. “You suspect, they are being summoned by this dark force. You suspect an attack.”

“I suspect the onslaught of evil, ion nin. Something far greater and far worse than any of us could ever handle. And I doubt that it will spare us.”

Legolas’ frowned deepened at that. His father was distressed. He was alarmed. It wasn’t a mere case of their hatred for spiders. It wasn’t a simple infestation. It’d be an ambush!

“When do you think it will happen? It doesn’t sound immediate.”

“At least not for now. Not yet. That makes it even more terrifying.”

Legolas stepped back as his father filled his glass yet again, glancing over at the map.

“Is that why the map is there?” He asked, already concerned. His father seemed grave. _Fearful._ That in itself was an indication of what was to come.

His concern grew even more when he followed his father’s eyes and figured what Thranduil had been doing all along.

He wanted to see the possible paths that will give way to attack!

“We should counter it!”

“Should the need arise. But for now, we wait and see.” Thranduil replied, continuing to sip his wine.

At that moment, Legolas felt his mouth go dry. He knew his father well and never in his life did he see the elven king so grim. That worried Legolas. That worried him very much.

Still, there was one pressing matter he had to address.

“I saw Thorin Oakenshield leave.”

At the mention of that name, Thranduil’s shoulders tensed visibly and Legolas just had to wonder why. “Why was he here, Ada? What did he want?”

His father sipped once more but this time, the amount was a bit more than just a sip. Although Thranduil had turned his back towards Legolas, he could hear the small and subtle sound of a shaky breathe which the other drew in. He waited for an answer but he could already see that it must’ve been something troubling. He had never seen his father so unprecedented—even when he tried his best to guard his agitation.

“Nothing.”

And Thranduil’s reply didn’t help either. All it did was to cement his concern.

“Please, Ada. It’s not ‘nothing’. I see your distress. Please, tell me. What did Thorin Oakenshield say?”

For a while, Thranduil seemed to really debate on whether he should speak or not. However, be it the wine or be it his anxiety, he finally turned and faced his son as he spoke with a low voice, “He asked me to marry him.”

“W-what?”

Was it just his ears ringing? Did he hear it correctly? It was not proper to splutter like that in front of his father but Legolas couldn’t help it! His disbelief clearly made itself known by his big, widened eyes.

As for his father, Thranduil looked...ashamed. He looked away from the other and confirmed softly, “He proposed to negotiate his alliance if and only if I promised myself to him.” He looked up and this time, like his eyes, his tone too had the latent anger and shame seeping into it. “I am to invest myself and only _then_ shall he make us allies!”

His nostrils flared as he tried not to punch a nearby wall, his hand clenching the wine glass as he downed the last of it.

For his own part, Legolas too was not faring well. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes as his heart boomed with anger.

“How dare he? How could he? That bastard!” He said slowly, gritting his teeth.

 How dare that insolence insult his father? How dare he to walk in and claim his father’s hand as if he was just some common endowment? This was his father! How dare of that Oakenshield to insult his own father in his own home?

“Why was he here alone? His advisors were too prude to assist him during his negotiation?”

“Not for this _proposal_ , of that I’m sure. Perhaps for reasons desperate enough. Perhaps for the same reason I suspect. But I _will_ not accept his offer. And you _will_ not do anything brash. Now please excuse me, ion nin. I’m tired. I need to think.”

Legolas squinted his eyes but said nothing. He nodded and stepped outside of the room. However, he didn’t go towards that of his own. Instead, he headed for the armoury.

When it came to his father’s honour, he couldn’t just sit back and let it be. He _had_ to do something. He _had_ to act brash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Thrandy NEEDS his wine. Whaaaat? You thought he was joking? XD  
> It seems like a slow pace but it’ll pick up—trust me. Also, Thrandy and Leggy might be a little OOC but...well...wouldn’t you be if your mortal enemy of all times just asked popped the question? XD That’s a HUGE troll, isn’t it? 
> 
> Umm...this might seem confusing- especially what Legolas might think his father is talking about. But it'll be explained in the next chapter. But if you have any questions, feel free to ask! :D 
> 
> One Important Note: After this, I will update on a weekly basis every Friday. This fic is cross posted in ff.net. So, it'll be easier for me to upload in both places. 
> 
> If you have any constructive criticisms or feedback, I would love to hear from you guys! :D Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. *sighs* If I did own 'The Hobbit' (the book and/or the movies), I'd make it soooooo yaoilicious. Really I would. OH and more Thrandy-Leggy father-son fluff. :3
> 
> Warning: Multiple P.O.V's. I tried to keep it clear. Sorry if it seems confusing. ^^;
> 
> Also, a reminder: Now that both ff.net and AO3 are at par, from now on, I'll update this on a weekly basis- every Friday night.

Thorin Oakenshield let out a huge sigh of relief after he had finally reached his palace. The journey was taxing and riding on Minty—no matter how gentle she was—always put a great strain on Thorin's body. Particularly the  _bottom_ of his body.

Once he reached his chambers, he practically lumped on to his favourite chair, thankful that whoever designed it had the common sense of putting space for a nice cushy cushion. He leaned against it and the comfort and the strain gently lulled him to sleep—

"Thorin!"

-which didn't last very long as he was jerked awake by the frantic voice of Balin who had barged into his room.

Thorin, seemingly perplexed at Balin's uncharacteristic behaviour, sat up and quirked a brow the other.

"Thorin, where have you  _been_? I feared the worst and was about to send a search party!"

"I am fine, Balin. There is no need for worry." He tried soothing the other but Balin was too frantic to care.

"But of course I must worry! You set out in the morning and now look at the hour and the  _day_! It is nearly dawn,  _two_ days after you set out. What on Valinor happened to you?"

Thorin opened his mouth to reply but he paused just before doing so. He didn't know whether it'd be right to tell Balin the whole account at that very moment, although it was justifiable and expected that it be done so.

However, the magnitude of the whole situation let him give in and re-enact the day's events to the elder dwarf whose eyes— with each and every word uttered— widened till they became as large as an orc's shield.

"WHAT?!" Balin's shriek made Thorin wince. "W-what were you doing in Mirkwood in the  _first_ place? You were supposed to turn the  _other_  way! By Aule, Rivendel is to the right, Thorin. To the  _right_!"

At that, a slight reddish tinge crossed Thorin's cheeks. There were some things that he  _couldn't_ answer and then there were some which he chose  _not_  to answer. This—however—was one of those things which he  _couldn't_  answer and so he  _chose_ not to answer.

Balin seemed to understand that as he shook his head and blinked quite a few times while grasping a more  _unanswerable_  point of the whole ordeal.

"What was his response?"

"He refused it." Thorin stated flatly.

"Thorin Oakenshield, are you out of your mind? You— you demanded  _Thranduil_  to marry you? Thranduil?"

Thorin pondered a while before shrugging, "Basically."

"You  _hate_ him!"

"Obviously."

"He hates  _you_!"

"Nephariously."

"So then  _why_? What were you thinking? Why didn't you just accept his offer?"

"Because!" Thorin finally snapped, fed up with all the panic stricken questioning. He growled as he did, his anger towards the elf king resurfacing while the account of him turning his back flashed in his mind. "I don't trust that elf. I don't trust him to keep his word. He stood there just _watching,_ Balin. He just stood there watching as my people fell, my kingdom burned and he turned his BACK! He turned his back on us!"

"But Thorin, I'm sure he had his reason. No, no. Listen to me. I know how devastating it was but we do not know what explanation he has on his part. And he did aid us afterwards, did he not?" Balin reasoned quietening his tone as the other began to get agitated.

Thorin looked away, heaving a few times before he calmed down once again. Balin still waited for him to respond. The elder dwarf was very patient and Thorin really respected him for the logic the dwarf kept in him.

"He came in action only when the people of Laketown were in danger. He came to Bard's assistance, Balin. Not ours."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Balin stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But he offered us help before, did he not?"

"In exchange for white gems!"

"Still he offered help which  _you_ refused."

At that, Thorin drew his breath in while his eyes narrowed slightly. That escaped his mind!

Balin wasn't done. He approached the king and pressed on with a disapproving voice, "You thought him succumbing to your eccentric demand would land you with great power? You thought you could be satisfied by having control over him?"

"Yes. Yes I did," came the other's stubborn response. "A prude like him would _never_  acknowledge others' greatness over his own. If by this method, I could impress upon him of him being  _not_  as great as he  _thought_  he was, if by so I would have the satisfaction of knowing that a prude has been brought back on ground, then YES. I shall do it again. Again and again AND AGAIN!"

"Listen to yourself talking!" Balin raised his voice, clearly not at all accustomed to what Thorin had to say. "Take my advice. There's still time. Take this condition off from the table. Make the alliance."

Thorin sneered, shaking his head. "No."

"Look at you! You are obsessed with him!"

"AM I?"

"WELL, ARE YOU?"

Throin stepped back with widened eyes, unable to contain another gasp that escaped his mouth. He frowned deeply, his eyes widening further as Balin's words pounded in his mind.

He was _not_  obsessed with Thranduil. He could never be! He did not think so often about the haughty elf. It was because of the immense betrayal on the other's part that replayed in his mind. That conjured anger in him and  _that alone_  compelled his want of satisfaction over the other's defeat!

The haughty elf didn't invade his thoughts. His eerie and ethereal silhouette crossed his mind  _only_ when that moment replayed repeatedly in his head. The image of Thranduil turning his back on him.

He was not obsessed. He was  _betrayed_.

Soon his shock wore off as his expressions hardened once more. He turned towards the other and said in an uncanny whisper, "It was still unpardonable."

"Thorin."

"The proposal stands. If he wants  _my_ help, he'll make himself my asset and I shall provide my alliance."

He eyed the elder for some time with imminent focus and stubbornness. Balin looked disdainful. He shook his head slowly and let out a sigh.

"Of all the qualities you have Thorin," he stated in a hushed and disappointed voice, "Your pride is one that can make you great and it will be your downfall. Here, I see no escalation, Lad."

With that, he slowly walked out of the room, leaving Thorin Oakenshield to ponder and seek revelation.

* * *

Legolas moaned as he staggered into the palace. He was beaten and bruised badly and was in excruciating pain as his left thigh throbbed. He disobeyed his father's orders and had headed for the southern territory, where the spiders lurked.

He didn't need Oakenshield's men to fight off the ghastly beasts. He didn't care for the number. He cared for his father. His father's pride. So he ventured alone, his bow and arrow and twin blades in place, he ventured alone.

Battle ensued. Some spiders were killed easily by swift aim of his arrows. Some put up a fight but the nimble elf had no problem slashing them with his blades. He leapt from tree to tree, soaring over the spiders, swooning in from under them—stabling, piercing, slashing them apart one by one. He was faring quite well. He hadn't broken a sweat.

He was enough. His father wouldn't have to go through that embarrassing ordeal  _just_ to keep their forest safe from these abominations.

The battle ensued and luck was in Legolas' favour. He eyed the ruin and felt satisfied when no spider sprang back up. However, in that moment he had let his guard down. One of the dastardly beasts ambushed him from behind and raised its venomous fangs. Thankfully, his sharp ears were able to pick up the quietest of scuffling sounds coming from the beast's legs and was able to get away from its way. He saved himself from being devoured by it but he wasn't too lucky.

For even though he had leapt out of the way, the spider struck down and one of its fangs slashed against Legolas' thigh, injecting it with small amount of potent venom.

Legolas was able to draw his blades and stab it at the side of its head, killing it instantly. He dropped on to a branch, then another and another, finally reaching the ground with a huge 'thud'. He was badly injured.

Though, he finished them off. Each and every one of them. Had there been more, he would finish them off too.

_He_ was enough.

* * *

Thranduil was in his chambers resting when Galion had burst in.

"My Lord," he sounded extremely frantic, "The prince...he- he's hurt."

Doors flew open and Thranduil strode off towards Legolas' room. Galion was heard saying something about venom but Thranduil's ears registered none of it. His heart sunk and his mind was spinning completely out of his control.

He barely registered what Galion had to say. Words floated around Thranduil's ears but not in them. From what he had gathered, Legolas completely misinterpreted the situation! He thought Thranduil asked Thorin's help to fight off petty spiders. He didn't understand the essence of what Thranduil truly dreaded!

A gathering of all the dark forces. A total carnage!

_Elbereth Legolas! What have you done?_

He rushed towards his son, ignoring the healer calling him. His son was hurt...he was poisoned. His son...he lay there unconscious. So frail...so much in pain!

Thranduil was scared.

He slumped down beside his son, gently stroking his elfling's cheek. His head bowed and eyes closed as he dared not look at his boy for fear of not handling the scene that he'd see.

"My lord."

He heard Galion calling him. He didn't want petty assurances. He wanted Legolas healed and  _safe_.

"Galion." He whispered in a trembling voice. "Send the messenger. Send him to Erebor."

And for that, he'd do anything.

"Tell him...I accept."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now you know why Thorin was in Mirkwood. Him and his awesome sense of direction! Somebody should really invent a compass for him. ^^; And hopefully, this explain a little bit about Thranduil's decision and Legolas' reaction. If not, feel free to ask me! I know this sounds confusing at times. Thank you all you've commented/sent kudos. You guys are AWESOME!   
> Thranduil: I thought *I* was.  
> Yeah, you guys are AWESOME along with Thranduil.  
> Thranduil: :> Please review. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: *sighs and shakes head* not mine. T^T
> 
> Warning: Mild language? You’ll have to look very very carefully, though.
> 
> AN: It’s Friday and I’m back with more! With weddings. YAY. With angst. YAY. With drama. And some of Thorin’s awful pride. YAY! A huge thanks to everybody who’ve reviewed/faved/followed.

The wedding had been grand. Seeing as it was the marriage and union of two kingdoms, the grandeur of it all wasn't any less than it should be. So many delegates had attended. Even Gondor and Rohan had graciously paid their homage to the newly wedded couple. Of course, it would be a tremendous lie to say that none was baffled by the irregularity. No one would ever expect a dwarf to marry an elf and to think that it would be their kings! Unimaginable!

There were food and drinks all around. Wonderful exotic music soothing the atmosphere. Who knew brutes like dwarves had an uncannily deceiving taste in music? Who knew that elven music complemented it ever so nicely?

They adored the lavish halls of Erebor. They adored the smartly dressed groom and more so, they swooned over his gorgeous and beautiful counterpart as he came in white robes, white starlit jewels adorning him. It was a fairy tale.

Yes, the wedding had been grand.

But as for the _bride_ , no matter how curtly he acted, all he simply wanted to do was to be done with this whole facade.

And as for the groom...well, he felt he still needed something more.

 

* * *

 

 

It was two days later when the guests finally took their leave. Two days later since after the wedding when Thorin could finally venture into his room. Now, _their_ room.

He closed the door behind him and turned. He paused for a second when his eyes fell on the straight, silken blonde locks spilled over a tall slender back. He walked over to his bed, along the edge of which his new _husband_ sat. By the looks of it, he had been doing so for quite some while, not even acknowledging Thorin’s presence, or more likely, choosing to ignore it.

“If you have nothing to say, then stop staring at me.” Finally, Thranduil spoke, although still not facing the other.

“And who says I have to say anything to you?”Thorin replied, rolling his eyes.

“Then stop staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring at you.” Thorin’s eyes narrowed. Late at night, he wasn't in the mood for a damned spiteful elf. “And even if I were. They’re my eyes. They can stare at anything they want! It’s _my_ business and mine alone.”

Thranduil did react to that. He turned sharply and glared with all his spite as he said venomously, “Then take your disgusting business elsewhere! It’s _my_ person and it doesn’t approve of your stalking habits!”

“You insolent elf!” Thorin growled stepping closer to the other, unmindful of his personal space. He grabbed the other’s shoulders and failed to notice Thranduil stiffening at the ungentle contact. “Who do you think you are? What vanity you have! You think everybody will stare at you, don’t you? That everybody will be  _mesmerized_ by your oh-so-beauty! But let me tell you! You are nothing more than a commoner. You look no more extraordinary than the most common looking man. And let the skies be dark before I ever willingly stare at you! And let me tell you one thing. You. Do. Not. Order me around IN MY PALACE. IN MY KINGDOM!”  He  clenched Thranduil’s shoulders tightly and jerked them a little not bothering to see whether the elven king appreciated it or not.

If he _had_ noticed however, he would see the other’s face growing grimmer and grimmer by the second and his eyes flashing fires of fury.

“King under the mountains, you invade my privacy.” He finally said in a dangerous whisper and it is then that Thorin noticed just how _close_ he was to his _spouse_! He quickly snapped out of it and placed himself several steps back, sneering at the elf.

“Your haughtiness knows no bounds.” He spoke, his voice seething with anger. “It’s a shame no one pulled you back on the ground.”

Thranduil breathed heavily. His face was straight but his eyes were ever so intense. If given a chance, Thorin was sure the elf would separate his head from his shoulders in one blink of an eye. But thankfully, that chance was not given to the other.

“The shame is yours, Dwarf king,” came Thranduil’s calm reply after a few moments had passed. “You’d have to use such extremities for trying to tame me.”

The comment stabbed the addressed. And to add to the insult, Thranduil’s lips twitched in a smirk. The snooty elf didn’t know when he was beaten. He didn’t know when to lose his pride! That _infuriated_ Thorin.

“You succumbed, don’t you ever forget that.” He said as his jaws set firmly against themselves. He glared at the other for a few moments more before deciding to take a walk.

On his way out, he slammed the door loudly.

_Never mind etiquette!_

If he stayed back a while, he’d notice Thranduil flinching at the loud noise. And if he bothered observing him, he’d notice the elf’s demeanour becoming more sullen as his face fought back an extreme urge not to show his helplessness.

 While he was here and his son was back in Mirkwood, recovering but still very frail.

* * *

 

 

 

Thorin looked out the balcony and gazed into the starry night. Gazing, but not really appreciating the beauty. No, his mind was still clouded with emotions he couldn't really identify. Whenever he was near that...that prude, it all came back Thorin hated his very guts! He experienced a plethora of emotions that were just too overbearing.

He hoped Thranduil would be more submissive...but now, he was reconsidering this idea.

“That doesn't seem like a happy first day of togetherness.”

His thoughts were soon interrupted by his companion, who smiled gently at him, stroking his long white beard.

“Ah Balin. It is impossible to have just two seconds of bliss with _him_ around.”

Balin chuckled slightly, taking his place beside his king and friend. “But you will have him around. That is what you ensured, my friend. Whether you like it or not. You’ll have to get used to him.”

“But I can’t! Thorin sneered again as the elf’s prudence flashed in his mind. “I can’t. He doesn’t know his place here. He is still so—“

“Majestic?”

“And I _hate_ it! I _hate_ his attitude. I hate his _pride_! _”_

“And where do you think _you_ stand?”

That made Thorin look up at the other in confusion. He waited for Balin to continue, “Is it not your pride that was in play when you made such a proposal? Or is it your will to obtain the unobtainable? Or is it because of a reason more potent?”

“What is your point, Balin? That I _fixate_ over that bastard?”

“Do you?” Balin seemed despondent. At his wit’s end even. Why else would he make such a preposterous allegation?

“Never!”

 “Thorin. For Mahal’s sake. A loveless marriage is the greatest sin of all.  Please? Annul it. It can still be done. For you, love comes only once. For him, marriage his sacred. Do not let your vanity ruin it all.”

Thorin remained silent. He stared back at Balin as the other frowned gently, hoping to put some sense in the king’s head. Thorin saw it. Thorin understood Balin’s intention.

“No.”

But his need to triumph was now greater. Especially now that the elf had given in. “The marriage stays. He will succumb.”

 Balin still tried, “Thorin—“

“He will succumb.”

He left the elder and again headed for his chamber. It was unbearable to share the same room as the elf...it was however more awkward to share a space with Balin without feeling so...constricted.

 

 

* * *

 

He was greeted by Thranduil’s back once more as he again closed the door. He rolled his eyes as the elf king yet again chose to ignore him. He still sat at the very same spot as he was left and he still was very much silent, even when Thorin lay down.

The silence was deafening and more. It was suffocating! And the other’s presence...

“If you plan on sitting there, you might as well move over. It’s been a long day and I would like to rest.”

Still no response came from the other.

Either it was extreme bliss or extremely irritating!

Thorin groaned inwardly as his nostrils were attacked by the smell of jasmine and juniper. If not for the fact that they were utterly soothing, Thorin would’ve passed out long ago.

It also lulled him to sleep.

_WHAT AM I THINKING? IT’S DISGUSTING!_

He groaned loudly and felt Thranduil shifting away towards the farthest corner.

Juniper and jasmine? He was losing his mind! _Any_ smell related to _any_ elf—particularly THAT elf was obnoxious! Very _very_ obnoxious!

He groaned inwardly again and closed his eyes.

_As long as his pride vanishes!_

He closes his eyes. He only hopes that whatever decision he made wasn’t as terrible as Balin tried instilling in him. He just _hoped_ he did what was necessary _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it’s a very very complicated relationship. I mean, this WILL be romance, right? At some point. Umm...Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early update! Yay! I had so much fun writing this chapter and couldn't *wait* to share! You'll see why. And yes! I am very excited. The story is moving forward. Thrandy is FINALLY among the dwarves and we will get more Thrandy and Thorin interaction! More spice, more drama coming right up! :D
> 
> As always, many thanks to everyone who've reviewed/kudo'd.

A knock on the door woke Thranduil up. He had sat up till very late at night before his exhaustion finally took over. Not very keen on sharing a bed with the person who humiliated him utterly, he had at last resorted to one lavish looking chair, whose cushions and lean looked inviting enough.

He rubbed his eyes and proceeded to open the door. Very unkindly but then again...he wasn't a king here in this _prison,_ now was he?

On the other side stood a dwarf guard. He offered Thranduil a sealed envelope and took his leave. Thranduil smiled bitterly as he noticed the manner in which that guard _somehow_ brought himself to pay respect.

 _A just response,_ he thought as he opened the envelope and started reading its inside contents.

He frowned but then his brows relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

The spiders had retreated back a few paces and it was all but a breath of relief for the king who was away from Mirkwood.

_Away from home._

It provided momentary relief, no doubt!

It also said that Elros, who had been temporarily given the power of authority, was so far doing a recommendable job of keeping peace in his realm. Which reminded him to later negotiate with Thorin about the ruling of his kingdom.

His eyes narrowed at that very notion. Had he not been so utterly desperate, he would never bound himself to such _nauseating_ treaty. One that made him Thorin's trophy...one that made his kingdom Thorin's dowry.

 _Technically, the_ dwarf's _kingdom now._

However, what choice did he have? It was either his own ego or his people...his son.

He clenched the letter slightly before setting his eyes on it again.

_Legolas._

It said, he was better. His fever had broken, most of the venom was out of his system but he was still in so much pain. Irrespective of his healing power and that of the healer's, it'd take time.

The gaze of those blue eyes became distant. Forests flashed before them, trees that had lived for thousands and thousands of years, his palace, his home...the face of his son.

Oh how he _longed_ to see his son! Would Thorin let him? Would he grant him just one day to see Legolas? Was he _that_ cruel? _That_ much inconsiderate?

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the ruffling sounds of covers and a groan. Thorin had woken up.

He quickly put the letter back inside the envelope and placed it on a nearby table, as he got ready for another boorish day.

"Is it the custom of elves", he heard him say, "to sit or stand for uncanny hours? And here I thought you were a prissy bunch." Thorin's voice was laden with sleep but still it didn't hide the mockery intended for Thranduil.

"Is it the custom of dwarves to lay down at the slightest chance they get? Here I thought you _weren't_ a prissy bunch!" Thranduil retorted back extremely calmly, smirking as he saw a scowl hit Thorin's face. That scowl increased when Thorin's eyes fell on the displaced cushion on the chair Thranduil had been resting on.

"You better not sag the cushions, Elf. I like to unwind there at the end of the day." He went on with a smirk crossing _his_ face, "Not that you'd have any idea what unwinding is. One needs to get some work done for him to unwind."

Thranduil raised his chin, looking down at the other. "Or maybe our kin isn't accustomed to taking frequent rests for them to unwind."

"Or maybe your kin works just too hard to get things right!"

"Or maybe your kin works sluggishly just to get the work done."

Thorin seethed at this and Thranduil was honesty _very_ satisfied. If he wanted Thranduil, Thorin would get him. _All_ of him. Thranduil would make sure of that.

"And this morning has just shown a glimpse of your kin's habits." Thranduil went on, running his fingers through his fine silken hair, "And of course _when_ the king is available for court. I'm amused."

"Now listen here you—"

Thorin had started to say something, untangling himself from multiple sheets but he was quickly cut off by a wave of Thranduil's hand.

"I'd love to hear you speak, king under the mountains. You never seem to bore me with your antics. However, hygiene comes first to me and my kin and I'd like to freshen up." He headed for the bathroom but before he did, he glanced at the other over his shoulders and threw a damning smirk. "We'll have so much to learn from each other. I'm looking forward to those. Even though the exchange will be mostly one-sided."

He turned and headed to freshen up, his smirk widening as he heard a hushed swear word in the back ground.

* * *

He had heard things of dwarven hospitality, yes. But _this_ was beyond anything that Thranduil could _ever_ imagine. Currently, he was sitting beside Thorin— his _husband—_ and was wedged between him and some other person with a ghastly sense of fashion.

 _Hair_ was meant to be braided. Hair was _proper_ to be braided...but so much intricacy on a _beard_? Dirty, unkempt, smelly _beard?_

_Augh._

He'd _never_ understand such fashion.

"It's dwarven beauty", the person—whose name Thranduil didn't bother to know—spoke while ripping apart a piece of bread.

"Indeed." Thranduil sneered slightly but quickly regained his composure as he took tiny bites out of his bread. He noticed Thorin glaring at him but he ignored him as usual.

Dwarven beauty, Elven loutish...just like a golden stone vessel.

"You might as well reply him. It's only proper." He heard Thorin scorn, displeased as it was. But Thranduil barely flinched.

"Proper is not forcing a marriage out of jest," he retorted back in a cool but dangerous voice, "Proper is not _treating_ a king like an _investment._ "

"Proper is also honouring the _jest_ when it is made official and with _consent._ You were given a choice." Thorin replied, his tone heating also.

"With not much to _choose from_!" Thranduil hissed, squinting dangerously as his bitterness crept back up.

"But it gives you no right to insult another after you've made your choice!"

"I've graced you with my presence. That is not much of an insult, I'd believe."

"Such puffed up self importance does not suit a person in your position!" Thorin raised his voice. Clearly he had had enough and was trying his best not to lash out at the other as he gritted his teeth and breathed heavily. "Do NOT forget your place here, Elf!"

"My place is _behind_ my _husband,_ Dwarf. You've _ensured_ it." Thranduil snapped back, his own voice rising just a little with ample hiss. He too had had enough.

By then the banquet hall had grown silent. All eyes were on the two of them as they exchanged another round of heated words. The first one being Thranduil refusing to eat anything after food was offered to him. But that sure changed.

This time though, both the kings grew extremely grim. Both clenched their jaws and looked heatedly at each other, none refusing to look away.

Finally, Thorin spoke. "Wasn't it always? Even at that unfateful day, weren't you always a step behind?" He had a tone that bled pain and harshness.

Thranduil's eyes softened at that as he lowered his gaze. No matter what he did, he could not blame Thorin for having that spite against him. But Thorin refused to understand his own dilemma.

_I had to...I had no choice._

The banquette hall grew sullen, dwarves looking at each other and silently asking each other what they should be doing in that awkward ambiance. Silently remembering the utter loss and vulnerability and harshness they had to suffer all those years ago.

Thranduil noticed the one beside him had also set down his food. He wasn't hungry any longer.

He smiled in sadness and stood gracefully, nodding at the others while he silently took his leave. His anger involved Thorin, after all. No reason why he should sour the mood of others.

* * *

He had been standing at the balcony. The sun rays fell on him and Thranduil basked in their warmth. It reminded him of Greenwood. It was long ago when darkness hadn't yet engulfed it. He remembered how he dotted it and named it _Eryn Lasgalen_. How fitting the name was!

That was all before it became Mirkwood and despite everything, Thranduil kept it safe. Kept his people safe from the darkness that threatened again and again. Never once had he succumbed in defeat.

 _Until now,_ he thought bitterly _._

He should've been content for the morning's exchange and yet he was not. Thorin Oakenshield's words somewhere hit a chord in his heart in the most unpleasant of ways.

He could never deny it. He _did_ turn his back, he _did_ leave them to fend for themselves and the outcome _was_ dreadful.

Still...what was he to do? He had seen the devastation. He had seen how powerful that dragon was. He had seen how many died and how few lived. He could never lead his people to sure death! Not for a handful. He couldn't endanger his own realm with the dragon's wrath.

The decision was not out of revenge...it was a pragmatic one.

And even though he knew he did what was right at that situation, he always— _always—_ hated himself for having to do that.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

If only the circumstances were better...if only Thorin wouldn't threaten to turn his back...

That is how Thorin felt then. That is how Thranduil felt now.

He heard footsteps. They approached him and as the person stood beside him, he could feel the other shifting slightly on his feet.

He dared not look at the other person—whoever it was—who provided him silent company. He didn't want to feel any more worse than he already did.

The other cleared his voice and it is then that Thranduil noticed who it was.

"Properness in question," he said, "It is not proper to leave the table while eating. Neither is it proper to taunt someone while eating. For that Elf and that alone, I...I apologize."

Thranduil opened his eyes and looked down at his adversary, now spouse.

"We wish..." said adversary paused, struggling to find proper words which he tried to convey to the other, "We wish that you..." He groaned when they couldn't be brought to his mouth. When Thranduil was about to look away, he felt the other person grab his hand and stuff something soft into it before turning his back at him.

The elven king frowned lightly and turned his palm, his gaze melting at the thing in question and the gesture that was made.

"Eat up Elf," he heard his adversary say, "The bread's still fresh."

And Thranduil was amused. For the first time in days, he was truly amused.

He did hear about dwarven hospitality. _This_ was beyond anything that he could ever imagine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Thorin. I love him so much. *sighs* And Thranduil too...I know I might make him a little OOC but it's just that he's not a bad guy. He is misunderstood...and even though nothing explicitly is stated about his relationship with his son, I personally believe that he loves him very *very* much and Legolas is his world! Do let me know what you think of this chapter. I really appreciate your feedback. : )


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote a fluff/angst piece as this chapter but it didn't of course work. I am getting there. The dark subplot needs to be covered and I better start paying more attention to it, instead of just Thorin and Thranduil—Thrandy in particular—fretting over it! Umm...so, I'm getting there. Definitely more development with chapters to come. But please do tell me if you find the pace too slow. Or abrupt. Not much frustration but...I tried to imagine what'd be logically possible. So...don't hate me? ^^;
> 
> Thank you everyone who've reviewed/kudo'd. You guys are awesome!

Frantic footsteps echoed throughout the corridors. Being a dwarf, the warrior didn't have long strides but what he lacked in length he made up for it in speed. In his hands was a bloodied axe that clearly indicated an ominous encounter. He was bruised and sore but none of it registered as he hastened his steps towards the throne room.

He had to find the king!

* * *

The door flew open and he stormed in unmindful of the usual courtesies. His rash appearance did not go unnoticed as the king seemed startled and his spouse— who otherwise made it extremely clear that he had no interest in the lives of dwarves— sat up with an equally astonished expression on his face.

"Speak up, man!" He heard Thorin say in a voice laden with utter bewilderment. "What in Mahal's name happened?"

The guard panted to regain his breath. When he did, he spoke in a very high pitched and fervent voice, "My king! The trolls...they have come down again."

"Trolls?" Their king was alarmed. As was the elven king beside him who held a dismal expression to his face. "Where? How far are they? Are they stationed or in motion?" He heard him speak. His voice wasn't perplexed as that of the dwarf king but it bore no traces of calmness.

"Stationed, my lord." The warrior responded, "Right at the foot of the mountains. They are only four in number. Or..." He hesitated and shifted his eyes between the elf and his king. Bleakness covered their faces—more in case of the elf—and less but masked well with agitation in case of the king.

"Well?"

"Or...they  _were_. My company on patrol encountered them and they were dealt with." He paused, swallowing hard to moisten his throat, "T-they ate our ponies. Two of us are severely injured! I-I don't understand. They weren't supposed to set foot here. They're not the brightest of bunch or the most desperate...my king." He stopped and scampered to bow as he realised how aggressive he must've sounded in panic.

"Why in  _Eru's name_  would you attack them?" He flinched as the elf king hissed, his eyes flashing with something along with fury. "You should've waited for  _orders._ What if you've agitated them? What if more come and what if you aren't well equipped to face them? Have you not thought of  _that_?"

"Enough, Thranduil!" His king intervened, shooting a glare at the other. He then faced the patrolman and spoke, his face completely focused and serious, "That  _was_  a rash thing to do. Your first reaction—instead of launching an attack—should've been reporting to  _me._ "

The dwarf closed his eyes and bowed in apology. "I-I'm sorry, my king." But they were killing their ponies! They were threatening to kill them! He acted out of fear!

He was trembling from the adrenaline rush and the fear of wrath from the two kings. He nearly flinched when King Thorin addressed him after a short pause of silence, "Go tend yourself, soldier. Bear word to the men  _not_ to launch an attack without agitation. Ask them to report to me on a regular basis and then wait for my orders. Now leave us."

He somehow scurried another bow and darted out of the room as fast as he could.

* * *

Thorin rubbed his temple as the newest of development hit him. The trolls had demonstrated this kind of behaviour before. His own company had seen it very closely. Back then, it was scarcity of food. But the mountains now  _teamed_ with  _food._ What he couldn't understand was _how_ the scarcity arose all so suddenly?

_What is happening?_

"It's what I fear." He was brought back to his attention by Thranduil's eerie voice. Thranduil was ghosting very close to him and even though Thorin abhorred the idea of breathing the same air as the elf, he somehow felt it inevitable for him to resist the urge of drawing in a lungful of the rich scent radiating all around Thranduil.

The elf was  _demanding_  his attention. His icy blue eyes boring deep into Thorin and even though the dwarf king had only graced the taller one with the barest of his peripheral vision, he could still  _feel_ Thranduil's very piercing gaze all over him.

And if that in itself was a dilemma, he could also  _feel,_ stirring in him, the plethora of emotions all rampant and wild crashing in his chest and mind. Of all, one which was the strongest was pure anger.

How  _dare_  he to ignore Thorin's presence? How  _dare_  he to command his guard as if he was the supreme ruler of them all?

He gritted his teeth and counted mentally, hoping to ease his fast breathing. Thorin felt shame. He felt  _absolute_  shame being ignored like that and that too by the likes of such an impervious creature! But what angered him more...what shamed him more was the fact that Thranduil looked so  _natural_ and so  _outlandish_ whenhis eyes sparked fire for those countable moments.

"This is a pattern, can you  _not_  see?" Thranduil spoke more persistently. He knelt down before the other, eyes wide and wanting Thorin's full attention as they gazed straight into them. "It has happened before, it happened again and soon, more and more such occurrences will be common and dreadful to think about! It's the dark force that stirs them. The darkness awakens!"

At that, Thorin'e eyes flashed wildly. Did he really think Thorin was so ignorant?

_Unfit as a king?_

His jaws tightened at that very notion. It took him all his strength just to keep the appearance of calmness. And yet...

Yet, why was his chest constricting so much? Why did he feel the itch in his hands to want to  _swat_ Thranduil away?

Fingers flinching, Thorin clenched his hands into tight fists. He breathed in and out and pried his mind off from his thoughts and frowned deeply when he deemed it impossible.

Even now, as the elf king stood very close to him, he forced his hands to stick to his sides. He never unclenched his fists, fearful of them disobeying him and actually reaching out to that  _delusional_ being.

He would've let out a groan had he not been in the other's  _loathsome_ company. He couldn't let Thranduil enjoy the satisfaction of seeing such... _disgusting_ weakness on Thorin's part.

_Weakness?_

The dwarf king narrowed his eyes. Thranduil's voice was ringing in the background and was rising then and now, clearly wanting Thorin's attention. However, much to the other's dismay, all he could think of right then was how... _foreign_ Thranduil was and.

"Are you listening to me?"

Thorin was. How could he  _not_ when again he was reminded of Thranduil's  _unpardonable_  boldness _?_ He focused majorly upon controlling his breathing, keeping it calm and slow. Unexplainably, it was becoming much too erratic.

All that kept ringing in his ears was— how infuriating his demeanour was and how Thorin wanted nothing more than to shove him away with the strength that Mahal had gifted him.

How he wanted nothing  _more_ than just to have a breath full of his frustratingly rich aroma!

Thorin's eyes widened immediately with shock as the last thought became coherent. He twisted his face in disgust and dug his nails deep into his flesh, as if to try and smack the ridiculousness away from his mind.

What was he thinking? He was thinking about the same person who just moments ago insulted his authority? Forgot his own place in Erebor and now had the _audacity_ to challenge Thorin's deductive capacity?

His face became strong and eyes hardened as he finally directed his gaze at the elf.

"First of all," Thorin replied, ignoring the look of horror in Thranduil's eyes for a moment, "How dare you to address  _my_ subject like that with  _me_ beingpresent?"

He saw blue eyes widening at the sudden shift in topic before quickly they shot a warning look at the other.

"What is the matter with you?" He admonished Thorin, "This is far more important that you not being able to scream at your subject's  _diminished_ capacity of decision making!"

Thorin frowned deeply as he faced the elf, unappreciative of his demeanour. "Diminished capacity of decision making? What was he to do when they took their ponies? For all you know, they might've been next on the menu! You never faced them! You'd never understand!"

Thranduil seemed distraught. He was distraught yet at the same time very much roused up by Thorin's words.

"And as for his decision, yes. It was rash. Yes, it was panic-stricken and YES he should've reported to ME! But do NOT tell my subjects what to do. Do no ever SPEAK to them as if you bear authority while I am in the same room as YOU! Never forget who the king of Erebor is!"

"Then ACT like one." Thranduil hissed dangerously, standing up in disconcert and glaring heatedly down at the other. "Your men might've brought ample distress as it is!"

"I AM acting like one!" Thorin retorted back, smacking the arm of the throne as he too stood up, frustrated with the elf's attitude. "I am aware of that! I am doing my duties. You do not need to tell me what should be done and what shouldn't!"

"I would never dare,  _had_ the king of Erebor any remote semblance of a sense of urgency!" Thranduil fumed and it was so uncharacteristic of him. He looked marginally frenetic and his tone fared no better in hiding it. "Act now. Or you won't be able to endure!"

However, his insult was far too much for Thorin to take. He snarled violently and retorted back, "The king of Erebor  _has_ that sense, Elf! I  _have_ given appropriate orders. And I certainly do NOT have to explain myself to the likes of you! You, who would find it his basic instinct to shut his realm off to the rest of the world and cower away while the outside world  _burned._ "

He noticed the flinch in the other as those words were mentioned. However, that was no base for Thorin to harbour forgiveness for the elf.

"You speak of the alarming danger that looms over us. Yet, when the danger was imminent, you turned away and pretended nothing happened!" He continued, "And now the nerve of you to  _dictate_ me what my actions should be! You dare imply that I do not know how to protect MY people. You, who left the responsibility entirely upon our shoulders, who were then too few in number and too frail to take the burden of it! Yet we survived then and we shall survive NOW."

"Do you know what endurance is?" He said in a flaring tone as he suddenly grabbed Thranduil's arm, paying no heed to the sudden stiffness in the elf and his attempt at pulling away.

"What are you doing? Release me!"Thranduil protested but Thorin paid no heed. He dragged the elf out in the balcony and shoved him forward where the sight of his people could be seen, engaged in everyday's work.

" _This_  is endurance, elf. Look! Look at my people. See there? That fellow lost his wife in the great fire. That man right there! He was once the best metal worker in Erebor. Incomparably fast and light on his feet. Now his legs bear no strength. His hip broke and needs to be supported. Yet he comes to work—every single day. Yet he produces the finest metal work in all of the country! THAT is endurance. Look there. No- no! Do not turn away, LOOK!" He reached up and grabbed hold of his chin tightly, forcing Thranduil to watch. "That lady lost her husband, her children and has seen her family being slaughtered by that dragon! It's a miracle she hasn't lost her mind! She still works as a governess and is STILL the most trusted when it comes to our babes! THAT is endurance!"

He released Thranduil with a jerk and narrowed his eyes at him. "You want me to act? You want me to send an alarm and infest panic? What good will it do to them? It is their courage that helps them to  _endure._ "

At those words, Thranduil visibly softened— even if by a fraction. The flare in his eyes was still there but the ambience of temper was minutely diminished as he took in the resilient people of Erebor.

"So tell me Elf. What is it do you want me to do?"

Thranduil's sigh could be heard clearly. He met Thorin's gaze—the fire in his own still smouldering as he touched his chin. "Do not ever touch me." He said in a low tone, "Not, without my consent."

Thorin squinted in reply. "Do not ever address my subjects so chidingly.  _Never_ within my presence."

His gaze still lingered upon Thranduil, who stared back his pride slightly hurt. However, there was a hint of something else in his eyes. Something other than hurt ego. Fear? Desperation? Whatever it was, it was enough to rile up that impertinent sophist. Thorin couldn't exactly place his fingers on it but one thing he knew for sure.

No matter how impudent he was, a pedant entity such as Thranduil would  _never_ forget his mannerisms. He would  _never_ act so reproachfully!

And that in itself was a matter of grave concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was Thranduil's turn to be out back into his place. Next chapter, Thorin and Thrandy definitely TRY to get along. TRY being the keyword. :D Till then, let me know what you think of this chapter. Please review. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I have promised, I am getting there. I know this might seem a bit slow but trust me, any faster than this will totally seem unbelievable!
> 
> Also, thank you everyone who've reviewed/kudo'd. Let me tell you this- you guys taking your time out to review means a lot to me. Thank you all.

It was late at night. All of Erebor was sleeping, yet Thranduil could not. His mind was too much preoccupied for him to have a second's rest. From his chair, he looked over at Thorin, sleeping peacefully on the bed.

They seemed so unaffected. So  _ignorant_ of the whole situation. All of them! However, Thorin's words about his people still bubbled in his mind. Each time he closed his eyes, the scene from the balcony flashed, waking him up in a cruel jerk.

What would they do once they were hit again by another calamity? Would they still endure? Or would they crumble and fall— as they had when Smaug set out his onslaught?

It was then that a thought crawled in his mind.

 _What of Mirkwood?_  He wondered as a small restlessness accumulated in his chest.  _How long before it too falls prey?_

He thought about asking Thorin to let him go over there, to see what the situation was with his own eyes. He knew that whatever peace reigned, it was nothing more than the calm before a storm. He thought about going there...but he hadn't the chance to let Thorin know. He certainly couldn't go there  _without_ Thorin's  _consent_! That much was made clear to him earlier that day.

And then, there was a more grave reason for him to go.

_Legolas..._

His son. He wondered how he was! It had been days since he had heard from his people regarding his health. And it ate him away. The  _worry_  gnawed at him and ate him away!

He was about to go out for a walk when he heard Thorin shift in the covers.

"You sitting there is just so bothersome, do you know that?" He heard him say in a tired voice.

"Forgive me. I will spare you the trouble." Replied Thranduil, rising up from his seat. "I was about to go and get some fresh air."

"At this hour?" Thorin sat up straight and now he was looking at the elf with traces of...concern? "And what do you wish to accomplish by roaming at this hour? Except for a few dwarves scared out of their wits when they see a tall figure wandering down the halls?"

Thranduil didn't reply. He was in no mood to respond to the taunts and teases.

Silence loomed over both of them and for a great while, none did anything to initiate verbal contact... of  _any_ form whatsoever.

When Thorin was shuffling back under the covers, Thranduil spoke suddenly in a low tone, "I wish to return to Mirkwood for a few days."

"That can't be done." He said tactfully at which, Thranduil frowned. Now was  _not_  the time to play that silly game of king and  _pawn._

"Then I request you to grant me the power of authority on Mirkwood."He tried again but to no avail. Thorin refused him yet again.

"But  _why_?" He couldn't help but sneer. This was ridiculous! How could he still be so stubborn when so many lives were at stake? "The terms of our kingdoms did  _not_  come into play when we agreed on this...contract! Insofar, I maintain my rule over Mirkwood. I have full capability of acting on my decisions!"

"The terms of our marriage _implicitly_  stated that I maintain my right on you and you agreeing to come to Erebor as my spouse  _gives_  you the inherent status of you being the submissive one." Thorin responded admirably in a calm manner, citing facts with utmost logic. "Therefore, as far as politics go, Mirkwood now  _too_  falls under  _my_ jurisdiction. And as the right bestowed upon me, I decline your  _request_ to visit it."

Thranduil gasped. He couldn't believe it! Even after the dreadful news, even after the guard's frightful account and his own warning of an ominous presence, Thorin  _still_ held on to his pride! He simply couldn't believe it!

A familiar sense of anger stirred in his chest. He could feel it building up more and more as a sense of helplessness washed over him. He clenched his hands into fists and stood up, frowning heavily at the other.

"I only agreed to this preposterous contact only because of your promise to aid me, should the need arise!" He tried hard but somewhere along the line, his tone betrayed him when it couldn't constrain the frustration towards the dwarf. "I require that assistance  _now_! You denying me of that just shows how much your words actually are valued!"

Thorin didn't take it well. He sneered back, also unable to contain his agitated tone, "Do  _not_  accuse me of breaching! So far, I've done  _nothing_  but comply with our terms. Yes, I'll send assistance but only when you truly  _need_ it! No word has reached my ears of Mirkwood being in danger. I do not simply see the point of sending my men and stationing them as of now! I would think the elves are capable of handling defence when no such immediate danger exists!"

"How could you ever know if  _any_  danger exists in Mirkwood?" Thranduil finally snapped raising his tone in pure frustration. "Have you ever  _bothered_ to gather news of my realm?"

"I know enough, Elf!" Thorin yelled back, climbing down from the bed and approaching the other with heavy steps. "Do not undermine my resources!"

"If they remain so oblivious, then I have but no choice to undermine!" Thranduil retorted, shooting sharp glares at his loutish  _spouse_.

"They are following my order of not doing anything rash!" The glare was equally matched by Thorin as did his rising voice. "Your hypocrisy surprises me! Here you rebuke my subject about carefulness and here you are willing to throw away that practice? You  _damned_ charlatan!"

"Your kingdom is NOT in danger of being barricaded, you stupid IGNORANT fool! They got injured at their OWN brainlessness! Your people were NOT attacked!"

"Neither were yours!"

"You do not KNOW that! You CAN NOT know that! When it comes to Mirkwood, you do not think with your MIND! You think with your vain BALLS!" Thranduil screamed vehemently, his face now hot and red with the insurmountable rage at the other's prudence.

"At least I HAVE balls to stand up for my own people. Unlike YOU who so easily gave in to the  _preposterous contract_ YOU yourself speak of!" Thorin retorted back in utter ferocity. "For the love of MAHAL, what the FUCK has gotten into you? It's BLOODY middle of the night! Why can't you let others take a bit of BLOODY well deserved REST?"

"I DID IT FOR MY SON, YOU DAMANABLE BASTARD!"

When the full magnitude of his words hit him, Thranduil suddenly let out a gasp as his eyes widened with shock. His mouth went completely dry at the admittance of the horrid truth.  _That_ seeded his fear of losing his only child. That  _alone_ made him to act the way he did!

He breathed heavily as another realization circled over him.

Thorin knew.

His heart jumped and skipped with  _terror._ What if the dwarf now used this weakness against him?

What if he used Legolas?

Moments passed when no words escaped his trembling lips. Moments passed as Thorin too did not make any form of sound. He was just as stunned.

It was then that his self control gave away. Thranduil breathed in shakily with a pained expression.

His knees buckled and Thranduil flopped down on the chair. He half expected Thorin to mock him!

The mockery did not come.

In its place, a warm hand did as it squeezed his trembling shoulder gently and  _that_ surprised Thranduil by manifolds.

He looked up and saw the mellowed face of the other—something he never hoped to see for  _him—_ and it was then that tears fell.

"I did it for him. My son's gravely hurt." He wheezed, all of his frustrations coming out with a hiss, and let out a shuddered breath, as the shoulder was squeezed again with a bit more of the warmth.

"Of course, I don't expect you to understand." Thranduil continued, not noticing the small flinch let out by the other. He shot a sharp glare at the dwarf but couldn't retain it. His eyes betrayed him as worry clouded over them like a mist.

Thorin's eyes had softened. He simply stood there, just squeezing the other's shoulder and it was his way of providing support.

"He'll be alright." He finally said softly.

Thranduil closed his eyes hoping that the sting in his eyes didn't roll down as more signs of betrayal and weakness. Not before  _him_ who was the root of all his evils! Still...Thorin's console seemed  _so_ alien to him. And yet, strangely enough, so much trustworthy.

"He'll be alright." He patted the elf and handed over a pillow and a cover for him silently asking him to go and get some rest.

And as he headed back to his bed, Thranduil couldn't help but stare at his retreating back till he lay down. He found no words to speak. He found no thoughts to think.

That night,  _Thorin_  seemed so foreign and yet so sincere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so time for the apologies. I'm so sorry for this late update. I've got my exams coming and I won't be able to update my stories for a couple of weeks. But the updates will be super fast after that. :)
> 
> Sorry if Thranduil seems OOC. ^^; As always, I really appreciate your feedback. They encourage me and motivate me. I welcome constructive criticisms. So, please review. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights are reserved to J.R.R Tolkien (novels) and Peter Jackson (movies).
> 
> AN: I'm back! This one is more like a filler. Let the awkwardness ensue!

Morning came a little later for Thranduil. He had finally fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion which was more of a mental form rather than physical. He looked around and saw the bed already empty, as Thorin had woken up already and was busy in his kingly duties.

He groaned slightly and massaged his neck while heading for the washroom. Once inside, he looked in the mirror and came face to face with his disarrayed self.

By the Valar, he looked  _terrible_!

His eyes were red and swollen, his hair was all over Arda and anyone with a decent sense of vision would quickly deduce that someone in the king's chamber had been in tantalizing tension and it wasn't the king!

As he began washing his face, Thranduil's mind involuntarily traced back to the night before. The night before when he couldn't hold himself together. In front of Thorin.

A dark blush crept upon Thranduil's cheeks as he vividly remembered letting his tears fall so freely, so openly in front of the other. Revealing his most vulnerable spot of heart...something he never hoped to do. Ever!

However, the night before he also deemed what the dwarf king was! He was more than his normal brutish self.

Thranduil stared up at the mirror again and gazed at his own reflection with softer and mellower eyes. Much like Thorin's...so much like the way the other had looked at  _him_ while his heart anguished in fear and desperation. No matter how much Thranduil tried, he couldn't stash— in the back of his mind— the vivid picture of gentle brown eyes staring at him reassuringly...while his touch...

A hand reached up and tenderly touched his cheek as the blush darkened even further.

While his touch was just as much trustworthy and soothing.

_And so warm._

The dwarf king...he was so  _compassionate_! It was almost a privilege on Thranduil's part to witness such a rarity.

Suddenly, his lips let out a gasp as Thranduil quickly snapped out of his trance.

What was he _thinking_? Why such thoughts came to him so early in the morning? And the fact that most of his thoughts centred around or were dominated by _Thorin_ —it was reason  _enough_ for Thranduil to suspect that he had completely lost his mind!

That or he was too cooped up in that box of a chamber for his own good!

He shook his head as a feeble attempt to clear his mind and stepped inside the bath. He hoped that freshening up was a plausible solution to his unjustifiably weary mind.

"I believe this came for you, your Highness." One of the older dwarves addressed him with a smile as he handed him an envelope.

He smiled again as Thranduil took it from his hands graciously. As he inspected the seal, he all but perked up instantly. It was the seal of Mirkwood!

He turned his back at the other and with clumsy hands, tore it open, feeling all the colours draining from his face already for anticipation of the type of news the letter might contain.

However, once he had started reading, his face slowly regained its pallor and his features—tensed a few minutes ago—visibly loosened as relief set in.

The spiders were all slain, it said. Legolas slew them single-handed and Thranduil noted the pride he felt for his son who was growing up to become a great warrior.

_Great but rash._

He had specifically  _told_ the lad to wait for his orders...had he done so, he wouldn't be—

Thranduil frowned and read ahead.

The spiders were dead and so far, no new flock gathered in place of the dead ones.

It wasn't this part, however, that grabbed Thranduil's wonder. It was what followed that truly astonished the elven king.

_The prince is getting better. Those dwarf medicines His Highness has sent are powerful and they spare no time to take effect. His is still weak and is in need of rest. However, the venom seems to be wearing off faster than expected. The wound to his leg is healing nicely as well. It is only a matter of time before he is fully recovered._

_We all owe His Highness extreme gratitude for his quick thinking and immediate course of action._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Galion._

Dwarf medicines? A crease appeared in between Thranduil's brows as the unexpected information sunk in.

He hadn't sent any! He had no knowledge of any, either! So then who  _did_ send those? Who had known of Legolas' condition?

Save for Thorin...who came to know just the night before.

_He couldn't have had prior knowledge!_

He must've been facing the white bearded dwarf unknowingly. Perhaps his face made some unconscious expressions that had prompted the other to smile at him, yet again.

It seemed that this dwarf (Balin, was it?) liked to smile at whatever occasion he got and Thranduil couldn't help but make a face at him to wordlessly inquire about his amusement.

Luckily, he got the hint and responded, "Seems as though the king  _does_ have his sources, hm?"

"Pardon me?" Thranduil felt perplexed. The king?

He couldn't hide his surprise and confusion any longer and asked back, "What are you saying?"

_Thorin sent those herbs? But that's impossible! How could he know of Legolas' injury so far ahead?_

At that, Balin's smile widened as he looked back with cheekyness in his eyes. "Thorin isn't ignorant, you know? Neither is he a bastard. Only hard headed at times. He surely knows enough, don't you think?"

Thranduil heard the other let out a chuckle as his own face twisted in further confusion before the dawn of realization struck him.

No wonder those words sounded familiar!

 _That cheeky bugger!_  He marveled and let his mouth hang ajar.

"Do not tell me you were outside our chambers last night!" He was too shocked to even hide the awe from his voice as he exclaimed!

At that, Balin heartily laughed out. "Oh Lad! I assure you, I wasn't eaves dropping. With you two screaming on top of your lungs on a desolate night, I can say with certainty that  _all_ of Erebor could hear what you two said!"

Thranduil's cheeks nearly burned with shame! Were they  _that_ loud?

His eyes widened at those precise words echoing in his mind and he  _felt_ the hot swell of blush spreading all over his cheeks.

 _Eru, what is_ wrong  _with me?_

For once, He was speechless!

Balin seemed to read his expression vividly like a script and to ease Thranduil's growing confusion and conjecture, he finally offered in a pert laden voice, "Maybe you should ask the king himself? He's in the library."

And before Thranduil could ask or say anything further or even inquire as to how Balin  _knew_ the content of the letter, he found himself gaping at the dwarf's retreating back. Right then, he was experiencing a range of emotions—varying from plain and simple confusion to extreme awe!

* * *

As was informed by Balin, Thorin Oakenshield was  _indeed_ in the library, thick books and records sprawled in front of him as they cried out for his attention. Ever since that morning, he was in a strange mood. He couldn't fathom  _why_  but no matter how hard he tried to justify his emotions, he came up with nothing. No matter how hard he tried to find the  _cause_ of him being so distracted, he came up with  _nothing._

 _Nothing_  except the reflection which floated in his mind and quickly disappeared. The reflection of a certain elf's face, iridescent with an eerie glow...such a subtle glow in the darkness and so alarmingly  _humane_ with drops of pearls sliding down those smooth cheeks.

He couldn't cast that ghoulish picture out of his mind! And if he tried to delve into that image, it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to slam his head against the desk.

Why was he having such strange thoughts about that snooty creature? Was it exhaustion? Or was it because for the first time, the elf demonstrated something more than his cold, aloof and  _sinister_  self?

Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door and he scrambled to  _appear_ focused while burying his nose in his 'work'.

He had expected his subjects or even Balin, who came by earlier and offered him the news of the elf's son's health.

How he had known was a baffling mystery. Or perhaps he'd attribute it to his immensely meticulous skill of breaking open and resealing a letter...more likely the latter but either way, he didn't hold back when he offered Thorin his  _wisdom_ as well.

" _Perhaps you've overcome your pride...or maybe just gained more along with_ your _one?"_

His one? Huh. That senile fool!

However, all of his speculation could never prepare him for the sight that came to be.

No, it was none of his subjects. Neither was it Balin. The one who came through those doors and was currently standing right in front of the dwarf king was none other than his lawfully wedded spouse.

Thorin sat up straight, tilting his head in confusion as a reactionary frown appeared on his forehead.

"Yes?"

Thranduil blinked a few times—quite opposite of his regal and confident nature—as he spoke rather  _shyly_ , "I understand that you have exported some of your finest medicine to Mirkwood. I personally wanted to inform you of how well they worked. Thank you, king under the mountain. My son fares better."

Thranduil nodded in gratitude and Thorin could do nothing but stare at the pristine being with fluster.

"I—glad to hear it, Elf." He replied, trying to put on his normal tone but failing nonetheless. The elf maintained his distance, yes. But even from where he stood, Thorin _felt_ the other's scent all around him. He quickly looked away and pretended to read one of those laid out documents.

"May I inquire," he heard Thranduil speak, "How you came to know?"

Thorin stayed silent for a while,  _still_ staring intently at the scroll before he gave in. He shuffled around and produced a letter— another letter with the seal of Mirkwood— and looked back at the other with a knowing expression.

"I found it lying on the chair the other day. I took the liberty of reading it, seeing as the seal was already broken. That is how I came to know."

He could see Thranduil trying his best to fight down  _something_ while trying hard to maintain eye contact with the other. "I thank you for your assistance."

"You needed it." Thorin responded in a neutral tone. However, even though his tone sounded deceptive, a strange pressure began building up in his chest. He suddenly found it too hard to look at the other and just as the dull documents looked very interesting, his cheeks and ears  _burned_ with an uncomfortable sensation, deeming it hard to maintain his cool.

When the sensation dimmed by a respectable fraction, he looked up at the elf and noticed the other too shuffling a little in place. And as their eyes met, just as quickly Thranduil looked away before bringing his gaze to meet that of Thorin's.

"I uh..."

Thorin started but was quickly cut off by something which Thranduil said at the exact same moment. When it was clear that none knew what to say, Thranduil politely bowed and went his own way.

And when he looked back just for a second, catching Thorin's eyes, the dwarf king could swear. The strange pressure was back in his chest.  _Again._

 _I must certainly be losing my mind._ Mahal  _help me!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I find Balin to be that cheeky old timer. I actually can imagine him doing that with a super secret letter that might be the solution to EVERYTHING! Or even eavesdrop during lovers' spats! XD He's just too cute.
> 
> I look forward to your feedbacks. Please review!
> 
> Balin: Or I might stand outside your room late at night! ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: 'The Hobbit' is the property of J.R.R Tolkien and the movies have been made by Peter Jackson. Ergo, they are not mine. :'(
> 
> AN: Okay. This one has some Major Emotional Upheaval. Major. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who've reviewed/kudo'd. It is tremendously encouraging for me.

_The horrid creatures were fewer in number but their dreadfully bulky size and equally expandable community made up for it in more ways than one. Legolas found himself staring up at one that paced slowly towards him. Its eyes glinted— like a joyous being that had seen food after months of starvation._

_Legolas' hold on his bow tightened, one arm readily touching the tip of an arrow. Should the need arise, he'd count on his swift reflexes and deadly aim. The creature didn't feel threatened, however._

_One by one its hairy legs approached towards the elf. The more it stepped ahead, the more Legolas found himself backing towards a solid rock face._

_It was then the idea hit him. That spawn of evil was blocking him! One, two, three, four...the paces grew and the distance between him and the rock face shortened._

_...Eight, nine..._

_Legolas gritted his teeth, drawing one arrow and setting his aim. He tried acrobatically flipping over the spider. But wait! His legs! Why did they feel so heavy all of a sudden? He tried again but the ground seemed to hold him tight!_

_Desperate, he shot an arrow but the spider broke it using its fangs. He shot another and another and another but all had the same fate as the first one!_

_Suddenly a blasting pain shot up his legs. It seared and throbbed and stabbed his thigh and the hot pain slowly radiated all over his body._

_The spider's eyes glinted with sadism. It knew feast was just about ready. It placed on foot forward, then the next, then the next..._

_Legolas dropped his bow. His hands couldn't hold it any longer. His whole body ached. It burned and Legolas_ wished  _that he was dead already. He was in so much pain!_

_Something wet dropped on his face. He managed to look up and froze at what he saw. The spider was now looming over him. Its mouth was already open and saliva dripped from it and onto the elf. Feast was ready!_

_Legolas' breath hitched. His whole body started trembling. He could feel all of his strength leaving him. He was done for. No one could possibly rescue him. No one could possibly ever find him._

_His end was near._

ADA!

Something wet was being patted against his face. Legolas couldn't place what it was but it was cool and it was soothing. A dark haze that had veiled his mind was slowly lifting as he came about. His vision cleared and he saw Galion leaning over him and placing a wet cloth over his forehead.

Legolas moaned as the throbbing in his thighs slowly but surely lessened. His fever had broken a few days ago but the effect of the venom still hadn't worn off completely. He looked around and took in his surroundings. He was back in his room.

A small frown graced him as he was perplexed as to how he got there. He tried remembering. His memory came in bits and pieces as well. All he remembered was fragments of the fight, him getting injured, the sight of their palace gate and then a darkness descending his eyes.

"My prince how do you feel now?" Galion enquired, looking much tensed and seemingly weary.

"I'm better now." He replied softly, his voice raspy from having had very less water.

Galion understood and brought a glass near Legolas' lips and took it away as the elf had finished drinking.

"Galion, where is my father?"

Shouldn't he be informed? If he knew his father— and he did— then he knew it better than anybody else that the elven king would never take it lightly if his son was injured and passed out for...how many days?

Galion didn't make eye contact with him and it made Legolas grow suspicious.

"Galion, where is my father?" He asked again and this time with a bit of authority in his voice.

The other hesitated for a moment before he bit his lips.

"Prince Legolas," he started, his voice lowering a scale, "The king...he..."

* * *

Thorin cursed mentally as he dropped a piece of paper from his chamber table. He waited for a while. Thranduil was in the room and he would do anything to see the dwarf king  _kneel._

He could call for a servant and wait for him to pick it up or he could just not kneel and let it be. However, seeing the childishness in both actions and futile loss of energy, he gave in and bent to pick it up. He let out a huff on bumping against Thranduil who suddenly placed one leg on top of another.

"Look before you act, Elf." He muttered and rolled his eyes while trying to pick up the paper again.

He smiled when it finally came into his reach. Holding it carefully, he straightened himself—

"Damn it!"

-Only to collide with the other's leg yet again.

"What is the matter with you? Can't you see things around you?" It was Thranduil who scoffed, rubbing his sore knee.

"Apparently, that isn't the case with you, now is it?" Thorin grumbled and glared back at the elf who was ready to drill a hole into his head with his own glare.

For a while, things were quite. Thorin reading the document before setting off to court on his favourite chair and Thranduil reading his book on another chair beside him.

Thorin had even grown accustomed to this kind of silence. After a few days, he understood that not always frequent taunting of Thranduil would humble him down. Truth be told— and let it be told in utter secrecy— Thorin was actually being lenient in that approach. He had already obtained what he wanted. Thranduil's compliance.

Even if the elf gave no such hint of him capitulating, Thorin had already won half the battle the moment Thranduil agreed on their faux marriage. Not only that, Thranduil had to treat him as his husband—albeit to outside world—he had to put up the  _semblance_ of willingness as leaders far and wide would visit their court. He would arrive  _following_ Thorin's steps; he would have to sit  _behind_ Thorin as council went on. In many ways, Thranduil gave up his kingship and that was enough injury to his pride.

Thorin could afford to give him a little bit of space now.

Or maybe he had something in place of tea.

Amidst his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that his eyes no longer read the document in hand. Instead, they gazed upon the blonde Sindar with thoughts focused only regarding _him_.

When the realization crossed his mind, he mentally scoffed himself and turned away, frowning at the paper.

No one would have the skill of telling how much time had passed before Thorin found himself again gazing at the other with the lightest of frowns.

How could it be? How could a creature so... darn  _exotic_ looking be so harsh? He gazed into Thranduil's downcast eyes. Those eyes...they spoke volumes of wisdom and experience and yet, having lived for thousands and thousands of years, Thranduil's smooth, stretched skin bore no hints of his actual age.

How could that creature be so deceitful? In every possible way?

He came back to reality as the other cast a perplexed stare at him, making Thorin completely off his guard. In his useless attempt, he tried blinking a few times to hide his... _interest_ in the weird being.

_Interest?_

Thranduil raised one of his luscious brows and observed Thorin much to the other's discomfort.

"You find something amusing, Elf?" He asked, trying to sound gruff but instead, his voice sounded  _boorish._

"Do you?" Thranduil asked back, propping his chiselled cheek against his slender hand. "You seem to be looking at me for quite some time, now."

Thorin held back a sneer. "I marvel at how high you all think of yourselves, when all of you elves look absolutely the same to me!" He responded with vehemence, deepening his frown.

"Oh really?" Thranduil's voice was playful. After so many days, he had been in a talkative mood— _remotely_  talkative, that is. And the last time he played using words in  _that_ tone was when...

Thorin cleared his throat _._

This was getting rather inconvenient! When did he resort to thinking so much about the damned elf? What _did_ he have as morning tea?

"Which reminds me..." The elf trailed off and Thorin  _wished_ that Mahal did not play such cruel jokes on him that day. "Why  _were_ you in Mirkwood?"

The dwarf king looked up, the faintest of tinge colouring his cheeks.

"That shouldn't be your concern." He said, sounding regal  _thankfully._

However, it had no effect on Thranduil. He smirked and leaned forward and Mahal be prayed, the blasted scent of juniper and jasmine again invaded Thorin's nostrils.

"Should it be not because it is too unmentionable on your part?" He went on in that sickeningly chiming voice, "Or is it because it is too embarrassing to be left as unmentionable?"

At that, Thorin sneered, trying his best  _not_ to look away from the other. His pride was in question after all!

"Or maybe because I find it not to concern an elf whose nose need not to peek into every single matter!" He replied,  _pride_ intact.

However, Thranduil's smirk widened and didn't fade or even had signs of fading. He narrowed his blue eyes and leaned even more towards the dwarf. His golden locks brushed against Thorin's nose and cheeks and the overtly sweet smell  _viciously_ infiltrated that organ.

"Is it..."

Thorin tried backing away but the damned locks were  _never ending_  and soft as silk...

_Wait! What the fu—_

"...Luck? Which unfortunate man would have that kind of fortune to land in his enemy's realm and just in time for said enemy to lay out a proposal? Tell me Thorin Oakenshield. How is it that you are  _so_ unfortunate?"

His voice was laced with mischief and his eyes sparkled with a light-heartedness that was doubted to be found  _ever._

No! Not again! Why was he analysing so much of Thranduil? He picked his cup and smelled it, ignoring the pealing laughter as he did so.

Mahal, what  _was_ in his tea?

"Well?" Thranduil spoke again, "I await your answer, O king under the mountain. I deserve it."

"You deserve no answer from me, Elf. None that concerns you," came Thorin's steely reply.

"Ah but it  _does_  concern me." Thranduil's voice was so unbearable.

And now that he was cornered, he would have to admit...

He muttered something under his breath which even the other's elf ears were unable to catch. Thranduil leaned forward more as a result and smirked, completely ignoring the fact that his lips now ghosted the dwarf's eyebrows.

"Do pardon me?"

There was the blasted smell again. It was a wonder Thorin's nose hadn't fallen off by then!

Oh he was enjoying himself, wasn't he? Thorin's blush grew even deeper as he raised his voice with utter courage and hurt to his ego.

"I said, I WAS LOST!"

He glared at the elf.

Thranduil, on the other hand, still stayed in place. He drew in a small jet of air and remained staring at the king of Erebor. His lips opened slightly at the totally unexpected nature of the reply and before Thorin could say anything further to lessen the  _death blow_  to his ego, Thranduil's shoulders started shaking.

A low rumble was heard before it expanded into a full blown fit of laughter as the elf closed his eyes and fell back on his chair while clutching his stomach.

Thorin's embarrassment grew tenfold and he could do nothing than to chide himself mentally and send out steely glares as the other's laughter rippled throughout the room.

"It is not a matter of joke." He said gruffly, upon which, Thranduil laughed harder.

"So that's what it was?" THranduil gasped in between laughter. When it finally subsided down, he threw away the playfulness he had before and looked at Thorin with a sharp glint in his arrogant eyes. "I had to wonder why you would grace me with your unwelcomed presence. I also had to wonder a greater purpose. I was wondering too hard."

Thorin felt a shiver of defensiveness cross over him as he was dared to be made an object of such insult. He evenly met Thranduil's gaze and welcoming his own haughtiness, he responded back spitefully, "Yes, such actions do not suit you! Since when have  _you_ thought about anything with reason?"

He saw Thranduil's expressions coming to a freeze before they moulded to one of utter displeasure.

"If by thinking with reason implies forcing one to be legally wedded to his enemy— just to have a trophy of his own stubbornness when clearly greater things are in focus— then I am glad not to think with reason. Your  _Highness._ "

The insult took its toll. It pinched Thorin hard and even hurt him simply for the fact that the rank which was addressed should've been done in absolute submission. Not out of dejection.

Now Thorin could see what his intention was! Not only to taunt Thorin but also to prove to him no matter what the situation would be, Thranduil would always triumph.

It disgusted him to think that a while ago, Thranduil was  _using_ his own  _sexuality_ to obtain results.

_No better than a common whore!_

And now he was trying to plant the flag.

Thranduil seemed to notice Thorin's hard outer skin getting crumbled.

"Yes, we elves may look the same to you. It's not every day you come across something other than the hairy ugliness your kind possesses." He pressed on, "Perhaps I was wrong to stop you."

"Stop me?" Thorin asked, voice laced with nothing but loathe for the other.

"From watching." Thranduil said coolly, focusing his icy gaze over the shorter one, his eyes squinting with a cold fire behind them as each and every word was spat out. "I can't deny you of some wishful thinking. After all, it is only  _watching_ that you'll ever get close enough to do. You'll never  _have_ me."

It happened  _irrefutably_ too fast, before either of them could feign any kind of reaction. Thorin's eyes suddenly saw nothing but a white flash and his ears blocked out everything from the outside world. He had no control of his body and no memory of ever lunging forward towards the other.

He was now towering over Thranduil's mouth and one of his hands gripped his inner thigh for support while the other viced the elf's chin and jaws with a captive intent.

"You are lucky if I only constrain myself to  _watch,_ you sore breed!" He brought his mouth closer and let his lips ghost over Thranduil's who pressed his lips shut and tried shifting his face vainly.

Ignoring the other's elven curses and squirms, Thorin continued with a foreign coldness. "I would not hesitate to  _consummate_ our contract in the most gruesome ways imaginable, dare you tempt me!"

The immense pleasure he felt was indescribable as he took in the wavering of pride and leverage from the pair of pale blues under him.

The ice in them was melting and a cruel, cold fire started igniting within them as Thranduil refused to be seen in that captive position.

The immense pleasure Thorin felt when he broke Thranduil's illusion of control.

Thranduil's eyes were wide with surprise...or was it shock? His body was rigid and he breathed out fast and frequently.

And if he didn't know any better, Thorin felt this was right. No, not because he was forming any emotional connection but the pristine creature beneath him...that other-worldly being separated by mere inches as Thorin hovered on top of him. The power...it felt so intoxicating.

Thorin was not mesmerised. He was in a hypnotic state, drinking in the lure of dominance he suddenly felt ripping through his body.

His eyes clouded all so suddenly as he was unable to focus on anything except for the elf's tightly clenched lips. His grip on Thranduil's inner thighs tightened and as the elf flinched slightly in pain, Thorin found a low heat settling at the core of his  _own_ hearth.

It was a sensation, entirely new. Not because he was enchanted by the deceitful beauty Thranduil held, not because he was feeling an upsurge of emotions swelling in his heart...but because...because he  _knew_ he had the control to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And the elf begging for submission, begging for him to stop—

The mist in his eyes lifted entirely and Thorin's eyes widened with confusion mixed with his intent to search for validation of his actions.

His face twisted with a myriad of expressions— all bearing disgust and shame and more confusion. His eyes fell on Thranduil's whose face was but a mirror image of his own. The only difference was, the confusion, anger and damaged ego was extremely profound.

After a beat or two, Thorin jerked away from the other. He tried not to frown hard as he thought what must've come over him. That vile elf was bringing out a new side to him and it was a side Thorin never thought he'd see! One which he was scared to see.

Suddenly, he felt his face turn as a sharp sting spread all over his left cheek.

His eyes widened with shock at the unexpected pain and he turned his face to see Thranduil now up from the chair, eyes flashing wildly like a cruel storm while he panted hard, bringing down his arm.

"Never." Thranduil said pointing a finger, a voice screaming bloody murder as he dangerously glared. "Never have the mistake of believing that you could  _touch_ me without my permission!"

Thranduil sneered but it wasn't as effective as it should've been. The shock took its toll.

When he finally seemed to regain his composure he said, "Here I thought there was more to you Thorin Oakenshield. I was grateful to you for helping my son. I was beginning to think that maybe you weren't completely disdainful! How I wish I wasn't proven wrong today!"

Thorin could say nothing to counter that. What could he say? Even he was unaware of such horrid threats he thought he was incapable of making.

_What is wrong with me?_

"Don't you touch me. Not without my consent! Never without my consent. I am not your victory is beneath even _you_."

As he shook off the bewildering feeling, Thorin's hurt pride finally took over him. The king's eyes narrowed with dejection at the mere prospect of being slapped by a lowly thing. He held back no amount of anger as he hissed, "There are many things that are beneath me, unlike you. Do not kid yourself by thinking I'll ever do something so discerning. I would never want to be tainted by  _tainting_ you. Never, in my nightmares!"

"Nightmares?" Thranduil reencountered, "Even if in your wildest and most improbable imagination, you wanted to touch so much as my  _hair_...I'll make  _sure_ that you don't live long enough to satisfyyour sick  _fantasies_!"

Having said that, Thranduil marched off bypassing Thorin.

Thorin did not take it well. He was not accustomed for the elf to have the last word. He started trembling in a low rage as shame filled him. He went so far as to threaten the elf with  _those_ words! He threatened him of  _violating_ him!

And as if that wasn't enough for him to feel the burn of guilt, Thranduil didn't even hold back jabbing it into his face. He made Thorin out to be a lecher. He would bring it up every now and then and smudge Thorin's character with his lies and deception!

He was no lecher! Thorin Oakenshield was no violator!

It was the _elf_  whose vile words roused Thorin's anger. It was that Aüle forsaken elf who stirred all those horrid unintentional words within him! It was his  _entire_  fault!

He quickly stormed off behind the taller being and before Thranduil could get any further down the corridors, he caught up to him.

Thranduil's eyes hid no surprise as he was grabbed by his wrist and was turned forcefully to face Thorin. He snarled vehemently but Thorin pulled him aside and shoved him roughly.

"Maybe it is  _your_ fantasy which you speak of, you arrogant fool!" said Thorin in a disgusted voice. "You will do well to remember you are nothing  _but_  a simple victory trophy. Considering that, you are treated exceptionally well."

"And considering the circumstances and my position, I am doing well to remember what I do to those who insult me. Consideringthat, _you_  are treated exceptionally well." Thranduil retorted back, shoving away the dwarf who blocked his way.

He was about to side step his way but Thorin wasn't done. He stepped in front and glared viciously making Thranduil falter, even by a fraction.

"Make me whatever you please." He said in a low rumbling voice. "I could care any less of your opinion but never dare to make the  _mistake_  of smearing my character!"

"And yet," came Thranduil's sarcastic reply. "Here we are."

And yet there they were. Thorin under the same roof as Thranduil because of his pride; because of him knowing that it was  _his_ pride which triumphed. Not Thranduil's. It was  _his_ pride before which the mighty and exotic Thranduil succumbed.

He felt a cold shudder running up and down his back when his feelings during  _that_ moment came to mind. Not only his feelings but also his urge to act out on them...they were so uncharacteristically  _dark._

Was Balin right? Was he  _obsessed_ with that abomination?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I had to rewrite it almost three times. Still think there is room for improvement here. But...I'm putting it in the future scope. This might seem that they're back to square one. But I thought, old habits die hard and old wounds (and fresh ones) take time to heal. Could I have had more fluff in between? Yes, I think so. But...too much fluff would've ruined the whole idea I have.
> 
> Feedback? Oh yes please!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Let's be realistic here...if I did own 'The Hobbit', the first thing I'd do is not kill Kili, Fili and Thorin...and we'd have juicy dwarf-elf romance and so much more!
> 
> AN: This is kinda an explanation and a further look at Thorin's character. Also, they have a very complicated dynamic. It's like a friggin' roller coaster with trusting-not trusting-swearing-cussing-cycle. I hope you guys are feeling Thorin and Thranduil after you've read this.

Balin was seemingly in a very bright mood. He knew Thorin had made an initial blunder but he was genuinely glad that the king was coming to his senses and was trying to steer the situation in neutral favour. His act of kindness was a stepping stone. Add to that, the sound of laughter coming from the royal chambers while he passed  _not_ by mere accident.

Yes. Maybe it wasn't Thorin who made that sound. However it  _was_ hearty and such a sound could only come in pure delight and amusement. One not cloaked by any revenge or darkness.

Perhaps, the king of Erebor finally began to understand that pride wasn't everything.

He looked ahead and saw a figure approaching him and he could easily guess who it was from his extreme uniqueness.

When Thranduil came closer, Balin called out, "Greetings, You're Highness."

"Bugger off!"

But his face fell immediately as he barely noticed the soured look on the elf's face as a graceful ball of fury wheezed past him.

_Thorin, no!_

* * *

When he first poked Thorin, the king would give out no indication of the situation. Even with Balin's constant insisting, Thorin didn't budge. And when Balin's insisting became dangerously closer to nagging, he shot the older dwarf a very displeased look, which Balin ignored.

"For Aulë's sake, Thorin! Please tell me it was just your usual banter! I have  _never_ seen him so angry."

"Who cares if he's angry?" Thorin replied, suddenly yelling out in frustration which never bode well.

Balin, confused as he was, tilted his head and prodded on, "Well I care what you must've said to him! It must've been awful for both of you to have your moods ruined. Tell me. I may be of help."

Thorin seemed to consider Balin's words deeply. From where he stood, Balin could see the look of hesitance and debate on Thorin's face. The king wanted to say something but for whatever it was worth, he couldn't bring himself to say it!

"Is everything alright?" Balin asked quietly, a quiet feat of restlessness starting to settle at the bottom of his heart.

Thorin finally sighed as his face became devoid of every possible emotion. He cleared his throat and said, "Sit down, Balin."

Balin did so, praying to the omnipresent being for not to let anything get out of hand.

* * *

While Thorin was reencountering every fibre of the gloomy event in great detail, he found it strangely that the more he spoke about his urge to subdue the elf, the immense power that he felt seeping through him, the more he felt succumbing to those dark instincts.

He felt, he couldn't stop describing his deep urge for the elf to beg to him. Plead him—be it for any kind of reason and admit his defeat. Accept Thorin's dominance.

He was about to say more when he was cut short by the other, whose voice hid no traces of fear and shock.

"Thorin, what is the matter with you?" Balin's voice sounded dry. When he glanced at the other, Thorin found his voice to match the expression in his face. Shocked, fearful and  _drained._

"I don't know. I just got so infuriated with him. I can't stand him having his head held high."

"Even so, your account...you- you sounded so unhealthy. By Mahal, even as you spoke, you have not got the idea of how many times you mentioned him kneeling before you, you triumphing over him, him succumbing to your victory." Balin paused, long enough to draw in a breath, "If you would only listen to yourself...this doesn't sound like you at all!"

Thorin felt a stinging headache making its way over to his temple. He  _knew_ well enough how he sounded. Truth be told, he was just as scared. Still, he couldn't  _help_ it!

"I can't help what I feel. He is an abomination and I can't help the loath if it should be made known to him." Thorin replied dejectedly at which, Balin's face started to shed off the layer of shock and reveal the sheer amount of solemnity he was capable of.

"Is it loath?" He asked and Thorin had to do everything in his power not to flinch at the admonishing gaze he received.

"What are you trying to say?" He asked.

"Is it loath that makes you act this way, Thorin?" He heard Balin speak. His voice contained traces of kindness but they were overlapped by a grimness that deceived the old dwarf's gentle features. "Thorin Oakenshield, are you sure it is not your obsession that drives your action? Are you absolutely sure that it is not your pride that is acting up?'

Thorin snapped at the mere accusation, a bit more than intended. He gritted his teeth and sneered with vehemence, "Obsession? Balin, you can't even be serious when you imply me being obsessed with that lowly elf!"

At that, Balin's gaze grew sterner. He frowned with immense displeasure and countered, "Are you not? The whole time that you spoke, I only counted the number of times you said you wanted to gain dominance. While you spoke, I  _observed_ the unhealthy expression in your face as you went on about bringing him under your influence. You even went as far as implicating of...of  _ravaging_ him should he invoke you! So tell me Thorin, is  _this_ not obsession?"

Balin's voice grew shriller and shriller and by the end of the speech, his voice was raised so much that even  _he_ had to breathe in and calm himself down so that it didn't come down to him yelling about it.

Thorin, on the other hand, went speechless. He looked away as the burn of shame and guilt titillated his whole face. He knew. He knew he couldn't stop himself from replaying that powerful image. It dominated his mind ever since it had happened and repulsively he felt a powerful influence it had on him.

He understood it well enough that it was affecting him. However, he couldn't help himself if he liked it. That feeling...that powerful  _powerful_ feeling...

He was soon brought to his senses by the other's voice which was now comparatively softer, "Listen to me. Do not make the same mistake as your father and grandfather. Do not let pride be your downfall. Do not let obsession dictate you."

Thorin looked up and faced Balin. The older dwarf looked at him with great concern, his eyes pleading Thorin to undo whatever and whoever he had wronged.

"This is a sham. This marriage is nothing but an obsession of you wanting extreme power. It is ruining you! A time will come when you will be ensnared so deep that you won't be able to cut loose."

"What are you proposing, Balin?" He had to ask.

"Let him go. He is your obsession. Not your investment."

Thorin immediately frowned at that. Let him go? No, he could not! He didn't want to!

"I can't." He replied, "The contract has been made. It was  _his_ idea to form an alliance and now it is too late to turn back!"

"Then renew your contract! Or at least treat him with respect. Enough to sway your fixation! Can't you see, Laddie? He will be the end of you!" Balin persisted, desperation taking over him. He reached over and held Thorin by his shoulders as he went on, "For Mahal's sake, you know you will fall in love only once. By doing this, by obsessing over someone who could never appreciate your actions, all you are successful in is making yourself bitter and loveless!"

When Thorin didn't flinch, he heard the other speak with a very clear notion of fatherly concern, "Mahal knows I am worried about you. I fear for your well being! Don't end up like Thror or Thrain. You have so much promise!"

Thorin closed his eyes. He couldn't keep the images of his predecessors flooding his mind. He remembered well enough exactly how Thror went mad for gold. His father...he too fretted over every piece of valuables and how he had that look in his eyes...that feral look when anyone threatened to 'steal' his precious things.

Thorin remembered them being  _obsessed._ And just as Balin, he too feared for himself.

The investment...it was nothing but an excuse. He just wanted to  _win._

"Laddie, make amends." Balin's plead made him open his eyes. He gazed into those old and wise pair and found himself getting mellow.

"For our sake, please. We do not want to lose such a promising leader. Not to some dangerous mania."

He nodded by giving in.

It took him all his strength but he couldn't bring himself to disappoint the one who've guided him and supported him in absence of his father.

Thorin rapped softly on the door that was unlocked and when no one answered it, he took it in his own hands and entered his chamber.

He was about to approach his chair when the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks.

Within ten feet stood his lawfully wedded husband, his naked back facing the king as cascades of wet gold covered most of his back. His long legs contained droplets of water which shone brilliantly against the warm sunrays and if it was ever possible, Thorin swore that the creature before him glowed with an eerie radiance about him.

He couldn't help an involuntary gasp that made its way.

At that, Thranduil seemed to be taken by surprise as he flinched at the sudden intrusion. He seemed extremely disarray while griping for a cover. He reached for a nearby robe and somehow covering his front, he turned to face the intruder.

Thorin didn't miss the way his face fell and when he found just who it was that invaded his privacy.

Blue orbs narrowed in distaste as he silently waited for Thorin to speak.

Thorin, on the other hand, snapped back to reality. When it hit him that he had walked in on the elf  _undressed_ , he found it increasingly hard not to look away and keep a deep blush rise up to his cheeks.

Furthermore, when it hit him that he had been  _watching_ the other no less like a  _voyeur,_ he felt so ashamed.

"I didn't mean to invade." he said as best as he could with a levelled voice, even though it was great constraint in his part not to let his eyes wonder.

Immediately, he was repulsed as he realized exactly what he wanted to do. What was wrong with him? Was he so frustrated?

Outwardly, his face bore no hints of such thoughts while he went on looking straight into Thranduil's eyes.

Thranduil's gaze hardened. He wrapped the robe around  _himself_  as best as he could and said, "No I'm sure you don't mean a lot of things. And yet you do them anyway just to  _please_ you."

Thorin twitched at the jab but he regained his composure. Sighing, he went on, "And I feel discredited when it is something that doesn't represent my integrity."

"Enough with your games." Thranduil hissed, clearly fed up with everything that had been going on. "Tell me what it is you want to do or say and be done with it. My patience wears  _thin._ "

Thorin bit back an upcoming retort and thinking about Balin's request and that  _only,_ he spoke with no form of defiance in his tone, "Those unpleasant words I said make me feel regret, Elf. My actions were...unpardonable. But do know I would  _never_ deliberately do anything to ruin my integrity."

It felt so demeaning to be  _apologizing_ to the other but it had to be done.

_Just for you, Balin. And for my people._

At his words, Thranduil's face contorted into one with pure confusion. He could  _hear_ the silent rhetoric that defied Thranduil's expressions. Just as Thorin had a hard time apologizing, Thranduil too seemed to be having a hard time registering it from Thorin's own mouth.

"You...you don't mean it." He heard the elf rasp in disbelief and he rolled his eyes.

"I never sugar coat words, Elf. Especially when it comes to objectifying  _my_ character. I am sincere."

Thranduil remained quiet and stiff. When it seemed like it was a fruitless trial on his part, Thorin was surprised to hear a scoff and a baffled hint of a smile from the elven king himself.

"You confuse me, Thorin Oakenshield." The elf spoke with all his bewilderment. "You thoroughly confuse me. One moment you try your best to demean me, the next moment you help my son...and the moment after that, you demean me again! What is it with you?"

_If only I knew._

Thorin thought inwardly and answered, "You are one to speak! You abandon us, then you offer your help and then you lend hand to Bard and not us! What's more is that you seek  _our_ alliance. Not Bard's! What is it with  _you_?"

"It's a diplomatic decision!" Thranduil responded in a very perplexed voice. "And I did it only to prevent more deaths because of a lost cause! I told you that! It's a diplomatic decision—one that I'm not very proud of. Have I wronged so much for this... _sham_  of a marriage? Is your pride so dangerous, Thorin Oakenshield? Will you succumb to it like your ancestors as you want  _me_ to succumb to you?"

For once, Thorin found his voice to be lost. He simply stared back at the other with bemused eyes as Balin's words floated in his mind.

Was he so vain? Was his addiction to triumph so dangerous?

"Still, I agreed. You won. I married you. Just for our alliance, I swallowed my pride and wedded you. All because I was desperate and I still am very much fearful of the thing that lurks around and threatens Arda in its entirety! Do you want me to forsake my  _honour_? I will have you know now, no matter what you do, you can never take it away from me."

Thranduil looked stern and solemn. And Thorin...he could only gaze back intensely. He found no words to respond.

Thranduil finally sighed out and turned around as he began putting on his robe. When he was finished, he faced the dwarf king again and continued in a humbler voice, "I still can't believe you threatened me with such words. They befell you. However, I too must apologize. My words were no kinder than yours, especially after you've treated my son."

It was then that Thorin's cold mask cracked. His eyes widened with unexpected likelihood of what he had just took note of. He could see the sincerity behind Thranduil's eyes and he could see that unnerving pride mellowing out as those words were spoken.

For what it was worth, Thorin felt a strange warm sensation stirring in his chest and it was so new, so foreign to him that he had to close his eyes, fearful of what the other might see in them.

He nodded stiffly and turned his back. He could feel the other's gaze on him but he thought it best not to take notice.

"I'm off to court." He mentioned, taking steps towards the door.

Had he turned around, he would notice a strange soft look crossing Thranduil's face as he held Thorin's retreating back before his eyes. He would notice a small spark of curiosity along with a certain flicker of  _something else_ — all entrapped in those set of pale blues.

And had Thorin faced him, Thranduil would also notice a softer look on Thorin's face. A look that belied all the deceit and immoral fixations Thorin put up. Deeper into the strong integrity of character, the honour that made up Thorin Oakenshield, Thranduil would notice a softer man who was made to endure all forms of hardship; a great leader who looked after his people and a gentleness that the dwarves had privilege of seeing.

He would think to himself, Thorin Oakenshield was a very confusing character.

And Thorin would do the same and be intrigued at the complexity which was Thranduil. A complexity he so wanted to cherish...yet at the same time  _dominate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So, they are so much more than a cussing duo. I just wanted that layer be shown. I hope I came closer to my intention. Please review!
> 
> Also, I might not update next week...my finals are coming up. but after 26th, updates will be totally regular.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still not mine.
> 
> Warning: Nosebleed ahead.
> 
> AN: My exams have been postponed. So I decided, why keep you guys waiting, right? So as per warning, be careful. Why? Because I couldn't help myself. XD Because I wasn't really in the mood for angst.
> 
> Thank you EVERYONE who've commented/kudo'd/bookmarked. It is really encouraging.

"Your Highness, the king wishes to see you. He asks you to meet him now." It was early in the morning when the elven king was sought after. Much to his dismay, however, Thranduil was just about to step into the luscious and cool marble-banked pool, surrounded by a beautiful garden, wherein flowers dotted the crystal clear water.

He began undoing the belt of his robes and said in nonchalance, "Ask him to excuse me for a while. Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait. That'll be all."

"But—"

"That will be all." He cut off the guard and excused him with one elegant wave of his hand. It had been days since he fully relaxed. Now that he had news of the dwarven medicine working its magic, he could finally breathe in relief and have one day of pampering himself.

He stripped down and stepped into the pool, a reprieved sigh escaping his lips.

The water felt deliciously cool against his skin. The flowers that bloomed enamoured him with beautiful fragrance and the nice cool breeze was refreshing against his skin.

He lowered further into the pool, taking a nice dive. When he emerged, his hair shone like molten gold against the morning sunrays.

He let out a comfortable moan as he stretched himself and began rubbing his long slender arms. Somewhere not too far from where he was, his sharp ears picked up a gentle commotion.

_Can't he be patient just for a while?_

He thought despondently, lowering himself into the pool and lifting a leg elegantly as it was its turn to be rubbed. Somewhere along the line, as calmness swept over him, Thranduil felt his eyes sliding close...

"I sent word for you! Where were— WHAT IN MAHAL'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?"

...only to fly open rather harshly as he was face to face with none other than the king of Erebor himself. No, wait. That was not the king! He was younger!

"I'm quite an eyeful, eh?" The not-so-bearded dwarf said with a smug grin on his lips and Thranduil could but only raise his brow. "And you're not nearly as empty as rumours define."

_They sent him?_

The younger dwarf seemed to be having a time of his life as his eyes roamed all over Thranduil's body. Clearly what he witnessed had to have been a first for him. Clearly, he was just in the right time for harbouring infatuations and crushes as he was doing now.

_Adolescents!_

Thranduil cleared his throat to bring his attention and the fact that the young one was clearing his throat and fidgeting uncomfortably did all but give it away.

"Uncle expects you. He sent me to fetch uh...you."

"Did he now?" Thranduil asked smoothly, flattered at the young one's awe. "And who, may I enquire, did he send to fetch me, young one?"

The other's face fell a little at the mention of 'young'. He puffed his chest and stood straighter as he replied, "I'm Kili, a valuable member of Thorin's company and I'll have you know that I am not a young one."

Thranduil smiled dipping himself in the water to cover himself as best as he could. The dwarf vaguely reminded him of his son in his teenage years."My apologies Kili. I never meant to undermine you."

"It's alright." Kili replied inattentively as his eyes lingered over Thranduil's form. Before it became absolutely obvious, he cleared his throat again and averted his curious eyes. "Uncle has news." He said again, trying to hide the blush that crept on his cheeks.

Thranduil went on washing his leg smoothly with his fingers, as if he was completely unbothered by Kili's intrusion.

"And I believe I sent word to excuse me for just a little while." He spoke, raising a brow as he brought his leg down and started caressing his hair, dipping in the pool yet again.

Kili's mouth hung ajar. He looked extremely uncomfortable and out of place.

The shorter being snapped out of it soon and cleared his throat again, trying his best  _not_ to look away because of pure intention of engraving a royal influence.

"Well— well obviously, it can't wait!" He cleared his throat again and it took great amount of self control on Thranduil's part not to snigger at Kili's deepening blush.

He dipped in the pool once more before standing up, his back facing the dwarf.

He glanced over his shoulder.

"So? Now that you're here in person..." he trailed off, inhaling in content while reaching for his robe, " _You_ might as well tell me."

"Kili." He saw Thorin's nephew flinch while his eyes gazed over his slender form. When he met Thranduil's eyes, he quickly blinked a few times— having been caught— and tried to hide his awkwardness by frowning hard at the elf. "I'm waiting." Thranduil prodded, now impatient.

The dwarf stiffened and coughed lightly again. He frowned harder— much to Thranduil's amusement— and said in a rush, "Your son is completely healed."

Thranduil was about to snigger at the flustered demeanour of the otherbut suddenly his lips tugged upwards as his smile melted into an expression of pure bewilderment.

"What did you say?" He asked breathily. And in a moment, whatever antagonistic attitude he had for the other suddenly didn't seem to matter anymore.

"Your son. He is free of the venom."

Thranduil kept on staring at the other with a stupefied expression and abruptly he faced the other—much to Thorin's dismay.

"Are you sure?"

Kili's fluster increased as he stiffly nodded. "Uncle has the letter that contains this. He told me to fetch you but I took the liberty of overhearing him and Balin speaking. But you don't know this as I said nothing to you."

Then without any warning, Thranduil leapt out from the pool and hastily put on his robe. He had to see the letter for himself! He couldn't believe it. Legolas had absolutely healed?

_Thank the Valar!_

Having no patience at all, he made his way inside the palace, while fiddling with his robes. He  _had_ to see the letter. Right then!

As for Kili, he still stood in place, eyes wide and mouth hanging ajar. His blush had worsened tenfold as Thranduil flashed his nudeness,  _unashamed._

"Thank you, Mahal!"

* * *

Two days passed since _that_  incident and it took Kili two whole days to reduce his excitement of seeing a nude  _bathing_ elf.

 _Ghastly_ , he would say when his brother taunted him at dinner and Thranduil would laugh it off when Thorin and other dwarves shot them an inquisitive look. He'd say, Kili had the opportunity of getting to know him  _personally_ and the young one would find that a right time to stuff any kind of food in his mouth _._

And when Thorin wasn't near, he would sometimes stroll in the archering field where the princes would practice. He would see the flustered look on Kili's face as he would give descriptions of 'a band of elves' like that to his brother, who would lightly smack him on his head.

Many would die to have just a glimpse...a peek, Kili would say and the other would scoff and make a disgruntled noise before winking a response of something along the lines of Kili not pleasing elves with his  _length_.

And when his brother would remark on Kili's self consciousness at seeing every part of Thranduil being  _long_ , Kili would bite back a blush and say with a smug grin, at least...his  _girth_  wasn't like a bean as he'd  _unwittingly_ witnessed.

And then a battle of words would yet again follow, taking much incriminating turns as those who passed them would blush and cover their ears while they hastened to run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nude Thranduil is gives me nosebleed. Add to that the image of the gorgeous Lee Pace as Thranduil...*faints* Does he do that to you too?  
>  I love Fili and Kili! I wish they'd not meet their fate like that. *sighs*
> 
> But for now, please review! :3
> 
> Thranduil: And I shall strip for you.
> 
> ...Okay maybe not...but still, please review!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Sad, I know.
> 
> AN: I'm taking a wee bit of break before my *last* paper and the idea of Thorinduil is really relaxing! Really it is!
> 
> From here on, it again gets back to being serious. It may seem so awkward but uh...I wanna show that things aren't solid between those two hopeless guys yet, you know? Um...it's like, 'Things are okay...okay...okay...and then BOOM!'
> 
> Right. That's basically the whole chapter and I think I gave away a spoiler. ^^;
> 
> Thank you to all who've reviewed/bookmarked/kudo'd.
> 
> Annnnnd I'm happy to announce that this fic is being translated in Chinese by the beautiful Lavern. You'd have to be a member of the site to read this fic. But do give it a go! It's lovely.
> 
> h_t_t_p (colon) (slash) (slash) m_t_slash .com (slash) thread-119909-1-1.h_t_m_l
> 
> (m_t_slash should be written without any underscores. This damn site is making it really difficult!)
> 
> Also, check out this amazing fanart by velvet_vampiress. She has made a delicious contribution! Keep tissues nearby. ;)
> 
> h_t_t_p (colon) (slash) (slash) grinningdarling.t_u_m_b_l_r .com (slash) image (slash) 86577985902
> 
> (it's in tumblr.)

Thorin had been resting his eyes for a few minutes, Thranduil sitting nearby—busying himself with a book—one of many he had brought along. Despite the stiffness and pinching exchange of words, they hadn't been out to cut each other's throats.

That was as near to Valinor as Thorin could fathom.

Suddenly a frantic rap was heard on the door. Without his order, it opened, revealing a dishevelled guard with an envelope bearing the seal of Mirkwood.

Thranduil of course rolled his eyes at the courtesy and etiquette but his interest was soon piqued by the same envelope.

Thorin however paid no attention to the elf. He snatched the envelope from the guard and immediately began reading the letter. As he went forward, his eyes widened, jaw hardened and his face...it grew grimmer and redder with every word encountered.

When he finished reading it, he excused the guard and stood with a thunderous demeanour. He didn't speak and didn't move and certainly didn't hear as Thranduil enquired him about the letter.

When he felt slender fingers prying the letter from him, he jerked to his senses. He looked up and as Thranduil's face came into view, he  _seethed._

"Get your hands away from me, Elf!" He growled, shoving Thranduil's hand away and ignored the look of surprise crossing the other's face.

But Thranduil quickly retorted back, "It's a letter from my kingdom. I have every right to see it!"

"And gain great pleasure from the wonderful literature that is written? Figures! The great Thranduil. Oh what progeny he has! And oh yes. Why don't you say something that doesn't involve a pen and a paper, you twit! It saves trees and ink!"

He crumpled the letter and threw it on the floor. Thranduil glared daggers at him but he could care less. He stormed off towards the library and vented, while deciding the most suitable way of replying back.

As for Thranduil, he was thoroughly confused at Thorin's sudden change in attitude. Not two days before, they were beginning to get along. Not two days ago, they got used to each other. In very close proximity. For the love of Valinor, he couldn't begin to fathom why Thorin reacted so harshly as he read the letter.

When Thorin left, he picked it up and glazed through it. His blood froze. The letter was from Legolas. The letter was  _for_  Thorin.

_The king of Erebor is supposed to be sympathetic towards others. He is supposed to have gained wisdom from his grand quest. Suffering through hardships, he should never take for granted at help offered to him and should never make a mockery of someone asking him for his help._

_I thought he'd be better than us_ lowly elves _, as he calls us. My idea was proven wrong in the most shattering way possible._

_I know now what our king said was true. Down to the last word. The quest he made was not only for that grand ambition but also for a more common one. To quench his greed. To obtain the unobtainable. He did so then, he did so now. Only this time, he veiled it with the illusion of choice._

_Hear me well and bode my words, king._

_You imprisoned my father. You insulted him and for that, you_ will _face the consequences. So run and prepare yourself as fast as you can, Thorin Oakenshield._

_I am coming._

And then Thranduil realized what a jeopardy  _this_ would turn out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this awfully short chapter. It seemed like a good place to end it! So to make up for it, the next one's going to be extra dramatic, extra angsty, Thorin's going to be EXTRA mad and Thranduil's gonna have to be careful! D: I don't wanna do this to Thorin but arghhhhhh it's the plot! *bangs head* I LOVE YOU THORIN OAKENSHIELD! I really do!
> 
> Till then, what do you think so far? Please review and let me know!
> 
> Thorin: Or I'm gonna be pretty pissed off. You know it!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I wish a lot of things. One of them is owning 'The Hobbit'. But...I don't. So yeah...I don't.
> 
> Warning: Well...kind of non- con. Um...it's not rape but it's dirty fighting, kinda an attempt to rape and it is BAD. THORIN, I'M SORRY! T^T
> 
> AN: I made Legolas seem so...hot headed but in my defence, he's really not that experienced—despite him older than Thorin. And his basically a young adult who's dad got hugely insulted. So I hope that justifies him acting so irresponsive. And the spiders and the darkness and stuff...it'll be expanded in the chapters to come. I've waited long enough, don't you think?
> 
> And Thorin WILL come off a jerk here. Though, I've tried my best to focus on his point, still...I hate having to do this to him but the plot demands it. So...you've been warned.
> 
> Thank you everybody for commenting/bookmarking/sending kudos to this fic. Your words have been encouraging!

Thranduil stormed his way towards the throne room, ignoring multiple glances set upon him as he flew by. In his trepidation, he did not even take notice of shoving away someone or colliding with someone at the turn of one of many lavish corridors. He paid absolutely no heed when he was sworn at by those who 'got in his way'. All that was in his mind was one thing and one thing only: find Thorin Oakenshield.

As he reached there, he was stopped just short of entering the grand hall by the guards.

"Let me pass." He told them with all the authority of a high ranking king as he was but the guards refused. In response, they crossed their axes to give out a clear message of their intent.

Thranduil— however— had no time for such silly games. "I  _demand_  you let me pass." He hissed, hardly containing a sneer that came along.

Still, they guards responded with resolution, "King's orders."

Thranduil stepped back, his eye twitching in irritation. He couldn't help but wonder where the situation had escalated to. He couldn't help but wonder to what extent would Thorin's overreaction reach and most importantly, he couldn't help but wonder, yet  _again,_ about his son's rashness that  _yet again_ compromised  _another_ already delicate situation!

He drew in deeply before trudging ahead. The guards gave resistance but they were roughly shoved away by a taller figure that was  _trembling_ in anxiety,  _fuming_ in anger and  _titillating_  in stress.

* * *

"You might want to consider this, Thorin. I doubt the prince of Mirkwood would act so rambunctiously and bring a whole army with him." Balin tried to be the voice of reason, to a very unsettling situation. When it came to any damage done to Thorin's pride, he  _knew_ just how volatile and irrational the dwarf could be. "We have further distressing matters to handle. Our patrol from north tells me of a herd of wargs wandering about. They seem to be tensed A strange ghoulish aura befalls there, they say. I think it is of greater priority."

"Indeed." Thorin mentioned half heartedly. "Do tell me, Balin. Those wargs. Did they seem like aimlessly wandering or were they crouching for an attack?"

"Wandering, so far."

"Then have patrol keep a weather eye on them. As for that Aule berated  _prince_ , how do you know what his sense of  _friendliness_ is?"

Balin groaned and persisted, "Because his  _father_ is here. His  _father_ is now your  _spouse._ And he would do nothing to jeopardise the lives of so many just because a proud  _bloke_ insulted his father with a shamefully binding contract! This is why I told you to thin very carefully! You do not want to make dangerous presumptions!"

Thorin shot Balin a pointed look as the elder tried his best at providing a bridge of reasonable conciliation.

"For Arda's sake, Balin," He said— his tone grave and focused, having absolutely no intention of treating the situation as a gamble, as volatile as it would be. "When Mirkwood delivers a letter that so much as well  _breathes_  rage and grievance; when it is the prince  _himself_ who addresses  _me_ with an extreme clarity of his ambition of coming to our kingdom; when said prince clarifies his intention as a  _result_ of the so called  _unfairness_ done to his father, I sincerely DOUBT that he is coming here with only his pretty councilmen to negotiate a bloody treaty! I expect him to march in here with a damned army and I expect US to be prepared as well!"

He ended with his fist hitting the arm of the throne with a loud noise as he stood up and dismissed Balin and his general.

"Listen to me, Thorin!"

"No you listen to ME, Balin. I remember well what that Elf said about darkness gathering. I have not turned a deaf ear to something so serious. However, because we still do not know the course evil will take, we can't determine our course of action! All we can do is be very diligent about it and try not to provoke things to their worse."

Thorin's eyes burned with undeterred rationality. He understood the magnitude of Thranduil's fear. Yes, he did. Even if he had resonating proof of that, he still didn't have  _enough._  What he was sure of, however, was the clear  _threat_ in the letter.

And if Legolas was as impulsive as he had shown to be, Thorin's  _own_  fear too was justified.

"And remember, have them ready. Have constant watch and if you detect a semblance of an Elf army ready to launch attack, you do not hesitate! If you see any _wargs_  trying to sink their filthy teeth in our gates, you show no mercy. Now go. Prepare our defence!"

The general bowed and was leaving when suddenly Thorin's attention was caught by the noise of the heavy door opening unceremoniously.

He spun around, extremely surprised. As he saw exactly  _who_ it was that made every mundane event extremely unceremonious, his surprise forged into a state of great irritation.

"If it isn't the  _king_ of Mirkwood himself." He spat his words at the abomination standing before him. The root of all evils! "Perhaps he wishes to provide his _justification_ behind this new  _development_!"

Thranduil didn't flinch at those words. From where Thorin stood, he could see the elf glaring back at him. With a surprising calm voice, the  _distress_  responded, "I do not hold responsible for Legolas' actions."

Thranduil paused and looked at the two other dwarves, who understood the unspoken order and left.

"Why should you? Do you  _ever_ hold responsible for someone's actions? Even  _yours_?" Throin snarled, climbing down the steps till he stood face to face with the other.

Thranduil didn't seem to be affected by Thorin's comments. He went on, "In lieu of whatever good faith we have between us, Thorin Oakenshield, I ask to speak with my son and do away with this unexpected circumstance."

"In lieu of what  _little_  good faith we have, Thranduil Oropherion, I ask that you step away and deter from having  _any_ conversations with him. I shall not have to put my kingdom through a battle because of lazy gossip between two  _pathetic_ elves!" He gritted his teeth while his voice—dangerously low as it was—shot each and every word that came out of his mouth.

And from what it would seem, _each_  and  _every_  word that left Thorin's mouth pierced Thranduil with uncanny aim as the latter's calm mask tore away, revealing a face with trembling lips which fought to keep an oncoming snarl.

"Your  _request_  is denied." Thorin spoke again, the bitterness in his voice clearly seeping through.

"Listen to me you pride fool," Thranduil finally retorted back, unable to keep his calmness any longer, "If Legolas indeed brings an army, then rest assured, the battle will not be over easily. Many lives will be lost, much wealth will be spent and it will come to the point where you will have to rebuild it all over again with nothing much to  _pay_ for the rebuild! How much loss can you  _endure_?"

"As little as I would have to, you snivelling  _snake_!" Thorin too snapped back, his jaws tightening while he tried his hardest not to lash out at the backstabbing elf. "I will ruin your people, should a scratch comes on to mine! I will  _kill_ your son if I have—!"

He was rudely interrupted when a pair of hands grabbed him by his collars, picking him up and slamming him against a nearby pillar.

Thranduil's eyes flashed violently. His whole face vibrated with a rage boiling within him. "Do  _not_ threaten me about my son." He stretched out every word in a chilling whisper. It was so solemn, so dangerous that even Thorin—who had been struggling against the elf's grasp around his throat—stopped at the sheer intensity of it. "It was you, who've brought this upon yourself. All because of your pride!"

Anger shone in Thorin's eyes as his leg came up, kicking Thranduil at his stomach. The force of the kick caused the elven king to release him and clutch his stomach, as he tumbled backwards.

Thorin dropped on the floor but managed to regain his balance. As Thranduil was picking himself up, Thorin held his throat with only one of his palms and pinned the elf against the floor.

He ignored Thranduil's struggle as his whole body shackled the other beneath him. "Perhaps my pride wouldn't come into play, O great elven king,  _had_ you not went back on your words!" His hold on Thranduil's throat tightened as the other struggled against his strong frame.

"Let me go,  _Dwarf_! You cross your  _limit_!" Thranduil choked out and smacked Thorin's back with his free hand.

"It is  _you_  who had no limit to cross, you ignorant backstabbing  _fool_!" Thorin condemned, exhaling heavily as the adrenaline took over his body.

The smaller of the two held the free hand with his own and adjusted himself so that Thranduil's legs were too blocked from attacking him.

When Thranduil was totally immobilized, he leaned over closer to the elf's face—till they were inches apart—and ignoring Thranduil's attempt at turning his head away, he said sternly, "Perhaps you wouldn't be in this situation had you  _helped_  those poor souls who sought your  _shelter._  And here you prove again, just how _reliable_ you are!"

Thranduil jerked vehemently, trying to shake Thorin off of him. He somehow elbowed the dwarf in his guts.

"How dare you to  _touch_ me?" He hissed as the free hand shoved upwards, hitting Thorin hard on his nose, making it bleed.

Even when Thorin flinched in pain, however, his grip never faltered.

"You of all should never cross me on reliability!" Thranduil spat back, narrowing his eyes, "Your grandfather's indulgence in all of that gold ensured how  _reliable_  your safety would be! It was  _reliability_ upon his resistance to that gold sickness that made you to seek shelter in the first place!"

"And such reliable are YOU for me to make this arrangement to begin with, you FILTH!" Thorin screamed as he felt a jab against his ribs. He formed his eyes into a squint and growled as he took a handful of Thranduil's hair and tugged at them. "You and your words! You and you  _twisting_  your words! I knew you were never to be trusted while speaking alliances! Within DAYS you cause this  _alliance_ to crumble!"

His ears registered Thranduil's gasp as his hands tightened around his hair. "But you know what? I was prepared! They will retreat. For I have  _you._ "

Thranduil's eyes widened as he noted ferocity in the other's eyes—ferocity so foreign that it did not suit the other at all.

Then came his bone chilling words.

"They will retreat. For I have  _you._ "

"That investment, is that it? You put your hopes in me being an investment. Shows how pathetic you are in your confidence,  _Dwarf_! As long as you have that investment, however, I'd  _expect_ you to use it to your favour! So then why do you not use it and let me reconcile with my son? Are you so  _deluded_ to notice that I could be your solution?" He retorted back in an equally effective grimace, somehow freeing a leg that clashed with the other's ribs roughly, causing him to bite back an excruciating pain.

"You negotiating under current circumstances will only increase _your_ chances! Yes, you are an investment. Nothing MORE! They'll hold back, should any  _harm_ befall on their precious worthless sod of a  _king_! This is what you are, you incriminating idiot! You are an investment! You will ACT as one. Or I will  _make_  you!"

Thranduil groaned trying to tug himself out of Thorin's grip. However it got heavier and heavier as soon as the dwarf shook off his searing pain.

"Argh! Get OFF me!" He kicked again, his voice straining from being held so tightly for so long. "You don't even have the guts to make a proper negotiation. You say you are going to make me act as how I should? You couldn't even make  _yourself_  act as a royal when you  _saw_ the imminent danger your grandfather had brought! You couldn't even make yourself  _ready_  when all of your worthless kin suffered in the pits of that dragon's hearth!"

Before he knew it, he felt the hand around his neck being lifted, granting him a second of relief before it clenched tightly around his jaws.

"And that was when we sought your  _merciful_ shelter! That was when we  _saw_ you twisting your words and your back as you LEFT my  _worthless kin_  to suffer in the pits of that dragon's hearth!"

Thranduil felt another flash of rage rippling through him. He remembered it well. He remembered how he advised Thror again and again to check his gold madness. He remembered the grand insult that was made to him by Thror the day he went to acknowledge him as a  _king._ He remembered Thorin's look...the look beneath his resolution to fulfil his noble quest.

He remembered.

It is  _then_ that he stopped struggling and replied in a mocking tone, "At least it is my words that I twist. Not my motive to regain the throne."

In a flash Thorin's expressions distorted to pure rage. A punch to his diaphragm knocked Thranduil's breath out of him and before Thranduil could scream, he felt the clash of strong hands as punch after punch was placed all over his torso.

"How dare you!" Thorin howled, placing both hands around the elf's slender neck, strangling him coldly. "How dare you belittle me?"

Thranduil twisted himself and managed to knee the one on top in the ribs. Thorin bit back a wheez with extreme amount of self control and momentarily, loosened his grip on Thranduil.

The elf took that moment to elbow Thorin's nose which bled upon contact and when the smaller being was getting accustomed to the pain, Thranduil tried dislodging the dwarf.

However, Thorin was under some kind of influence. He quickly got over his pain and settled heavily on the other.

"Putting up a fight? Now you don't find the wish to turn back?" He hissed as lust and rage clouded his vision. "Will you _never_  submit?" He suddenly swooped down and clashed his lips against those of the others.

Thranduil kept his mouth shut, resolved to let anything but let Thorin have his satisfaction. With strength of his own, he managed to pull Thorin off and was about to land him a blow when the dwarf suddenly locked his jaws with one hand and choked the pale neck once more with the other.

He writhed vehemently and tried his hardest to break free. His own hands flew up to his neck, trying to pry that strong hand that was resolved to cut off his air supply. He could feel the dizziness that was making its way. He tried yelling again, scratching, kicking, jerking... _anything!_

But Thorin was resolute.

"How dare you belittle US after all you have done is silently watch as my people DIED fighting; as they became homeless and helpless? How dare you call US worthless when it is YOU whose very existence is nothing but a BANE?"

Thranduil's eyes widened in shock. As those words were spoken, he saw the extreme pain and anguish that crawled all over Thorin's face, the trauma and hardship that etched each and every line of his strong features.

He stopped his struggle and looked back at the other with horrified eyes, his mind beginning to replay each and every scene— that he had remembered vividly—of the day when a helpless Thorin asked for his aid...and he had no choice but to turn away.

His face shattered, the pain finally registering in him. Physical pain as well as that of his conscience. He closed his eyes as those countless screams again filled his mind.

Thorin was right. He did turn his back.

His hands slackened and fell next to him as he slowly turned his head to his side.

He did turn his back...and Thorin feared he would do so again.

Worse of all, he could  _justify_ Thorin's fear. He could now justify his worth as an  _investment._

He opened his eyes— that now softened with nothing but apology—and looked back at the other, silently relaying his apology.

Thorin caught that look. Perhaps he understood. Or perhaps he saw that killing Thranduil would not serve him any better. Whatever the reason be, he frowned in disgust, slackening his grip on Thranduil's neck and freeing mouth.

Both heaved in pain and exhaustion. A blanket of humid silence covered the two beings, only interrupted by Thranduil's dry coughs.

Thorin's lips trembled. It seemed like he was about to form words when he was interrupted by a frantic voice.

"What in Mahal's name are you doing?"

It was Balin, who came running towards them and pulled Thorin off the elf.

"Have you lost your mind? What were you attempting to do?" He admonished Thorin and the younger dwarf remained silent, as if debating that question himself.

With Thorin off of him, Thranduil finally breathed in deeply and winced as physical pain finally started weighing down upon him. He rolled to his side and brought his knees closer, coughing as his eyes slid close. He felt a warm hand against his arms. When he looked up, he saw Balin's concerned face, trying to assess his injuries.

"Are you okay, elven king?" He asked gently, propping him up so that he could carry him to his room. "Can you walk?"

"Yes. Thranduil wheezed, rubbing his sore neck and let the older dwarf support him while being picked up from the ground.

"Come, I shall have a healer look at you. No, not you! You gather your wits and think what could've happened because of your impulses!" he admonished Thorin, who looked absolutely sickened.

With Balin's help, Thranduil limped towards his chamber.

"If the prince arrives, I promise to talk with him. There has been enough animosity as it is." Balin said, "But let us heal you first. Come."

As he was walking away, Thranduil shot a glance at the younger dwarf.

He simply stood there like a stone. With horror-struck eyes, he kept looking at his hands that shook uncontrollably.

When his anguished eyes met pale blue ones, Thranduil turned away, shivering at how close the call was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said, I HATE having to do this to Thorin or Thranduil but the plot demands it. I'm so sorry! :'( Please review.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Hobbit' and its characters.
> 
> AN: So this one is more like a filler. It is entirely about Thorin and I hope I managed to show that he isn't a hardhearted, evil, proud s.o.b. I hope whatever damage I have done to him in the last chapter is somewhat brought down.
> 
> To everyone who've supported this fic, I thank you sincerely! You guys are the driving force and you really motivate me to write!

"By Aulë!" Thorin punched a wall, as soon as he had rushed back to his chambers. His whole body was trembling from the events that had happened minutes prior. He felt his breath hitch and get caught up in his throat. He felt as if  _he_ was the one who was choked.

"No no no no no!" he punched and punched and punched ahead, not caring for his knuckles that had started to bleed as they clashed against the hard walls.

He was about to kill Thranduil. With his own bare hands! His face twisted to pure horror as a realization hit him hard.

He was about to kill Thranduil and never before had he felt so much power seeping through his whole form. It made him shudder when he finally reveled, he actually enjoyed that sensation. That God like sensation of having someone writing beneath him...having the power to decide if he should live or if he should die...

His mouth felt dry.

By Aulë's name...what if that wasn't the only thing that he intended to do?

He screamed and punched again as bitter bile rose up in his mouth at the very notion of it.

"What were you going to do?"

He was quickly pulled apart from his self disgust as Balin roughly shoved him away from the wall.

"What was it that you were going to do?" His voice rose to frantic level when all Thorin did was look back with all colours draining away from his face.

"I- I don't know, Balin." He barely managed to whisper, as scenes of those moments looped in his mind. The look held in Thranduil's gaze—the look of pure disgust and shock and fear...

All because of  _him?_

"I don't know. I never...I've—"

He struggled with words as shame burned his face. The shame of him losing himself to those feral desires...to those instincts which felt so foreign to him.

"It wasn't me." He finally managed to breathe out as a look of horror registered in Balin's face.

"What?"

"It wasn't me! It didn't feel like me!" Thorin insisted, a total sense of loathe dawning upon him as he now realized how much he just wanted to give in those vicious desires.

He liked it. He liked that feeling!

His pallor became chalky white and his eyes widened at the morbidity of it all. He almost lost himself and perhaps _would,_  had Balin not intervened. What came over him? What was happening to him?

"Mahal...what have I done?"

"Thorin...Thorin, listen to me." Balin spoke after he had shaken off the initial terror of his king's new side. "You must go and apologize. You—you looked so terrifying. You  _must_ apologize. Then resolve the matter of Mirkwood. You can't afford to make new enemies now! And you can't dare of being inhumane."

Thorin looked aghast. For once, he felt his voice had left his throat.

"I...I can't. I can't, Balin." He wheezed out and Balin clenched his eyes shut. "I feel so ashamed. I  _hate_  that drat of an Elf. I do  _so loathe_  him. But...I didn't mean for it to happen."

At that, the other flew his eyes open, an utter look of shock crossing his face.

It was then that he seemed to realize that whatever Thorin did was beyond his control. And because of that realization, a shudder swept over his whole body as he swallowed thickly.

"I was going to _kill_  him, Balin." Thorin breathed out, his face seemingly in pain as he hated himself even more when he remembered every bit of that incident and every bit of his feeling  _during_ that incident.

A ravishing animal...that was what he had felt himself to be!

"I never meant to hurt him. It just happened. It just happened."

Balin seemed dumbfounded. Thorin could hear him actually swallow thickly while the old warrior scrutinized the other.

"You looked so dark, laddie." He finally said and Thorin couldn't agree more. He  _felt_ dark. Overtaken by energy— so sinister— that it was almost irresistible.

"But," the older one continued and it was that glint of hope in his voice which made Thorin to look up. "But you did overcome it. You did come out of that trance and control yourself. It is a very good sign, indeed."

Thorin scowled. "Not good enough, obviously."

"But enough for you to feel guilt over your actions. Enough for you to check yourself. And you  _must_ check yourself, Thorin. For if it happens once, it will happen again and when that time comes, you must be in your absolute sturdiness to resist that evil tempt. I have full faith in you. I  _know_ you can resist that tempt. Especially..."

Balin paused, seemingly hesitant. Thorin tilted his head to silently enquire what it could be which would make Balin have an internal debate whether to issue it or not.

Balin seemed to have caught the cue and went on, albeit bleakly, "Especially when you seemingly carefor  _him."_

_Now wait just a second!_

Thorin's eyes widened as unrecognisable words left Balin's mouth.

What did he say?

"What did you say?" He asked, not at all trying to conceal his utter shock, "Me? Care for  _him_? I do NOT care for him! For Mahal's sake, I was going to KILL him!"

_Or perhaps much more._

A cold shiver ran down his spine even by  _thinking_  about the horrid possibilities, should he had gone on any longer. However, he regained his attention soon enough to address Balin.

"I don't have any  _care_ for that elf! Only thing I do care for is tainting my hands with a blood much vile than a thousand orcs slain together!"

Balin's face grew straighter. However, his eyes twinkled. It wasn't mirth— that Thorin knew well. However, what that little twinkle represented was beyond Thorin's understanding.

"Ah laddie! You do care just enough for you to feel ashamed of facing him." He spoke finally, making Thorin's face twist with confusion at what he was going to imply. "Perhaps, evil is not the only tempt you must resist...perhaps, you should resist your pride as well! I will handle the situation involving Thranduil's son. In the mean time, you think and prepare well for the real danger that lurks not too far ahead. "

With that he patted the king on his shoulder and left, possibly to the chamber where Thranduil was resting.

As he remained standing, Thorin Oakenshield admitted to himself.

Never before had he felt so remorseful of his actions done to his enemy. And now that his suspicion transformed to one with high probability, he felt so anxious. However, what perplexed him the most was what Balin said regarding Thorin about that elf. If what Balin spoke weaved a little bit of truth in it, then Thorin would certainly be fared among the almost insane ones.

His injured knuckles throbbed, pain finally settling in. However, Thorin chose not to register it. His mind was so much boggled.

What should he do? What was right?

He just was not sure anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me! It's frustrating NOT to see the main pairing in action, I know! D: But it'll happen...it will!
> 
> Another filler to go before the final arc takes place. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed or too unexplained...or worse, too BORING! D:
> 
> If you guys have any criticisms or any kind of confusion, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll try my best to correct/explain. Please review. : )


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nope, I still own nothing. Nope...not even that sexy bastard of an elf. *sighs*
> 
> AN: The last filler of this arc. The next chapter will be the beginning of a new and final arc and hopefully *hopefully* it all comes together.
> 
> Enormous thanks to everyone who've bookmarked/kudo'd/commented. Your feedback is my encouragement!
> 
> Dedicated to [ WinterPetals](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterPetals/pseuds/WinterPetals)

It had been two days since Thorin had attacked him. For two days straight, Thranduil was kept in a separate chamber—in a separate wing of the palace—and was provisioned in every way so that he wouldn't have to come in front of Thorin or  _Thorin_ wouldn't have to come in front of  _him._

He'd praise Balin's foresight for this judgement. Obviously, it had worked well and had given Thranduil to cope with his shock.

The shock of every event going rapidly downhill. The shock of his son misunderstanding every bit of the situation and every bit of restraint Thranduil had when he agreed to that contract.

And not to mention, the shock of seeing such a feral look in Thorin's eyes...

His mind drifted back to that day when he saw through the dwarf's eyes. They didn't seem like belonging to Thorin. No, they seemed far too furious, far too veiled and far too  _dark_ to belong to the other.

If anything, Thorin Oakenshield was not a person of evil. Proud, arrogant, incredibly stupid...but not evil.

However, a second later, his mind revisited every detail of those moments when Thorin was so brutally antagonizing him. He pinned Thranduil down. He made  _sure_ Thranduil couldn't fight back.

The elven king shuddered internally as flashes of coldness swept all over him. He touched his now healing bruises on his throat. Not two days before, he could feel a strong hand squeezing the life out of him. What if he was killed?

What if something happened to him had Balin not intercepted them? Something far worse?

Bile rose in his mouth as his mind relayed again and again that vicious animalistic look Thorin had. For a while, it had truly scared Thranduil...

That fear was soon suppressed in the farthest corner of his mind by an increasing impetus of anger. Anger that came with the realization that was much too insolent  _even_ by Thorin's standards.

Thranduil...he had been  _touched_. He had been touched in the most disapproving way by none other than the pity excuse of a dwarf! A dwarf nonetheless who took away his life, took away his kingdom and was one step short of taking away his _pride_!

He narrowed his eyes as anger burned through his entire body.

How dare of that barbaric brute to even breathe the same air as Thranduil? How dare of that brute to place his soiled hands all over him? What did he think? That he wouldn't fight back? That he would be the willing bitch who succumbed to every passing whim whenever Thorin felt threatened?

A part of him  _wanted_ Legolas to wage a war. Let Erebor fall. Let it burn! It was fated to be doomed in the hands of a fool whose pride escaladed him above the grounds!

He sneered to himself. However just as the embers of his rage smouldered within him, just as fast did they begin to cool down leaving behind a mellow feeling of sadness and helplessness t within the elven king.

Somehow, even after all that had happened, his heart refused to let all these innocent people suffer—just for the spite of one miserable being. His mind traced back to an earlier day when Thorin had shown him all those who fell and yet rose back up again. After such a calamity, after bearing so much loss...

He breathed out and closed his eyes.

He couldn't let them suffer again. He couldn't turn his back on them...not again.

He had decided. When Legolas would arrive, no matter what he was  _expected_ to do, he'd take matters into his own hand and take charge of the muddled situation.

He knew this wasn't a time for petty bickering and meaningless battles. If whatever he had overheard from two days prior was true, then a truce between two kingdoms was absolutely necessary.

Just then, he had heard a knock on the door. With his permission, the door opened revealing the kind and knowledgeable face of Balin who had come in to check upon him.

"How are you feeling your Highness?" He asked, looking really apologetic on behalf of Thorin.

That proud fool didn't have the galls to face him, did he?

"Much better." Thranduil replied with a crisp shortness.

Balin nodded and tried again to make the air light. "Your elven healing capabilities are always so wondrous. If dwarves had that, then one of us wouldn't have an axe stuck in his head."

He chuckled lightly and when Thranduil responded by shooting a glare at him, his chuckle died down and a pained expression replaced his mirth.

Silence befell and for a long while, none spoke or even glanced at each other. Balin looked down on the bed— where Thranduil rested— and the elf glared daggers at the wall ahead.

Suddenly, he couldn't  _stand_ the sight of any dwarves...not even the one who helped care for him. For, looking at him, Thranduil remembered his vulnerability and Thorin's barbaric courage to strangle him.

When the veil of discomfort grew too thick, he turned around to face the other when he heard Balin speak hesitantly, "You know...I am shocked by the way he acted. He's...he has had his bouts of rage.  _Murderous_  rage but he never actually carried out an  _actual_  murder...or an attempt of it."

"Then I congratulate him on his first  _impressionable_ trial." The reply came out bitterly as Thranduil was unable to check his disgust.

Balin seemed to flinch at that. Yet, he tried again, "But he seems deeply troubled. As if he wasn't himself. Even he admits it."

"What a fine revelation!" Thranduil mocked.

"He...he truly is sorry."

The elf flinched at that. His disgust became apparent once again as he snarled at the other, "Is he now? And is he always sorry after he makes vile  _mistakes_?"

Balin bowed his head even lower as Thranduil went on, "Or is it his nature to make vile mistakes and hope that one 'sorry' will wash them all away? Or is it simply his nature, which is prone to making such mistakes? And when one offers council and  _logic_ and means of assistance, is it always his instinct to set his hands upon him and threaten his family? Then perhaps, he  _is_ a sorry thing!"

"With all due respect Your Highness," Balin finally spoke in a soft tone that immediately held Thranduil's attention, "Had you revised your decision, perhaps it wouldn't come to this."

Rage flared in pale blue eyes as that accusation was  _again_ made. However, Balin was not finished. He went on in his calm tone, "Although, seeing from your point of view, I do understand why you did what you had to do. It only seemed rational. Nothing more. And perhaps, if you had taken the time to explain it..."

"Explain?" Thranduil hissed, narrowing his eyes dangerously, "All I have done  _is_  explain! Still, if one decided to see only one side of things, then perhaps it is his  _pride_ that needs to be withheld.  _Not_ my actions."

"Pride compels us to do a lot of things, does it not?" Balin smiled sadly, at which, Thranduil's bitter expression started to fade away being replaced by a sullen one.

Balin continued, "Had it not been for Thror's pride, our relations wouldn't be so strained. And had it not been for Thorin's pride, such an involvement could easily be avoided."

Thranduil raised a brow. Could it be that  _this_ dwarf was actually being sincere?

"I warned him. I told him to think it through. But he wouldn't listen. To him, this meant an instant victory. You submitting, his pride remaining undamaged and yours own taking a wound. But now, it seems absolutely futile. Especially when the intent was to  _secure_ an alliance."

"That seems farfetched now. Because of his miserable little ego." Thranduil spat back, still bitter but not nearly as much enraged as he had been before.

"Indeed." Balin sighed and stroke his beard, "I understand fully what you spoke of the other day."

At this, Thranduil raised a quizzical brow while he sat up straighter.

"Wargs have been spotted. Few in number and with no real intent of attack...however..."

"It is extremely unusual." Thranduil finished, a deep frown appearing between his brows. "For them to be seen in broad daylight."

Balin nodded and said, "It almost looks as if they are waiting for something. Something that will trigger every form of trouble."

"As have the spiders." Subconsciously, the words left Thranduil's lips while he recounted the exact same events that occurred in Mirkwood.

Balin perked up at this and looked very concerned, hoping the elf would elaborate more on this.

And that he did.

"The reason I asked for Thorin's alliance was because I too feared the same. My suspicions grew stronger as reports came in of spiders who gathered at our borders. They too were fewer in number. They too had no intention of building shelter...as spiders would normally do. They too seemed like waiting for something ominous to  _guide_ them. And then you mention trolls coming down...wargs roaming about. All within a very short time frame and all happening with too much suddenness to be left on chance. None causing actual  _trouble_. All seem to be stagnant. Eerily so."

He paused looking back at the other whose face now lost all sorts of composure.

"I fear that dark force building up its power. A time will come when all shall be unleashed at once and we would be too scattered and disarrayed to handle them. And from what it seems...that time is not too far away!"

"We must act. Before it affects  _us._ " Balin added, throwing a meaningful look at Thranduil that made his brows to further crease. What did Balin imply?

Who was being affected by darkness?

Was it...

He let out the lightest of gasps when  _that_ feral face flashed in his mind.

Did he mean...

"So what do you propose, Elven King? Will you lend your help? Will you resolve the chink that makes it way and provide support to  _both_ kingdoms?"

Balin looked focused. Years of wisdom reflecting from his face as he looked solemnly at Thranduil.

Thranduil met his gaze with an equal meaningfulness and sincerity before he replied, "Yes. Have Legolas brought before me."

Balin's face broke into a sigh of relief. He knew— at that moment— that Thranduil meant well. That Thranduil was on their side. He nodded in gratitude and as he was about to say something, he was interrupted by a guard calling from outside, "A few elves demand to see King Thranduil. Your Highness, Your Imminence, orders!"

He quickly looked at Thranduil, worry etching every fine line in his face.

Thranduil too did not fare well. He quickly got up from his bed and made way for the door.

Legolas had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, not much happening here, huh? I hope now you guys see the bigger picture. I still wish I could've done a little more to enhance that B plot but I didn't know how to do it. So this very *ahem*boring*ahem* dialogue based chapter. Please review.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: *shakes head* not mine.
> 
> AN: Leggy's here! :3
> 
> Huge thanks to all who've supported this fic. :)

Footsteps echoed through the marble corridors, each step resonating with absoluteness and infallible determination as they marched forward to be in grace of the king of Erebor himself.

Guards tried halting them but fell back eventually as Legolas and his guards showed no sign of hesitance. With every point of axe or inquisitive glares, he would mention only one thing with profoundness. "The king expects us."

And still, when the dwarf guards would pay no belief, Legolas would march ahead along with his company— fully aware of the label of high treason between allies— and truth be told, he could care less. When it came to his father's well being  _because_ of his own carelessness, he would do anything in his power to keep his father safe.

Soon, the great door of the throne room appeared. He looked back at the elf squad and nodded to them, signalling them to be on high alert.

No army was brought—as Thorin had speculated. Just a few of his guards. To be exact, five of them and five of the very best.

"The king expects us." He said again in a very solemn voice as the dwarves shot him treacherous looks.

"Not when you carry your weapons." One of them said.

Legolas glared at them in return. He glanced back and his squad becoming ready to pull out their swords, to whom, he signalled with his hands.

"He expects far more." Legolas responded spitefully, "That we are  _countable_  should be enough of a proof of his safety."

The guards didn't take the response well, as expected of them, and when they tightened their grips on their axe, Legolas felt his whole body tensing just as well in anticipation. The squadron behind him were now on heightened alert and any false move from either party would start a massacre within seconds.

Fortunately, before it got to that point, the prince of Mirkwood heard a gentler yet authoritative voice calling out to the guards.

"Let them enter. They come to speak with the king. The king is well aware of that."

The old dwarf spoke and the guards seemed to be submitting to him. Legolas directed his glare at him and when the white bearded one met his eyes, he paid him respect with the gentleness in his eyes.

The guards seemed extremely hesitant, debating whether or not to commit to the order. "The king's elven spouse wishes to see his son. And the king anticipates some form of negotiations from Mirkwood. You wouldn't dare denying our allies, now would you?"

A frown creased Legolas' brow. What was this? This dwarf was taking his side? He saw the sincerity in those seasoned eyes, yes but what he couldn't possibly  _fathom_ was the very fact that he was  _vouching_ for him. A dwarf— influencial to Thorin Oakenshield no less— was vouching for his enemy's son! Were they really keen on negotiation or were they going to be ambushed?

His heart shrunk as another possibility crossed his mind. Were they so keen because...something dreaded happened to his father? And they wanted to soften the blow?

He prayed to Elbereth with all earnestness that such wasn't the case.

Even the dwarf guards seemed utterly perplexed. However, they eventually decided to trust the other and allowed Legolas and his company to pass through, albeit gathering four or so guards to join and scrutinize them.

The first thing that came to Legolas' vision was the build of a proud and arrogant dwarf king, standing in a stance that conveyed all of his power and dominance. He had his chin up, his eyes lookin down on the elves who now stood before him.

Stiffly, Legolas paid 'gratitude', hoping to commence with his real intention while he felt himself growing restless with worry.

"Greetings to the king under the mountain."

Thorin nodded, eyeing suspiciously the elven guards who looked tensed.

Legolas decided not to waste any time and spoke with constrained defiance, "I must come straight to the point. I am aware of your contract and as riveting as it is, I understand why my father had to agree to its terms." He glanced at the king with nothing but boldness in his eyes and looked behind him, trying to see if anyone else was there. When he had found none, he continued, "Mirkwood needs to be properly assigned a representative of its ruler. In lieu of those terms, I would expect your Highness allowing me to consult with my father, the elven king, regarding the governance."

He eyed the dwarf and saw him keeping his cool, even though his pride exonerated the entire grand hall. Thorin's eyes flickered momentarily at Legolas' words and the hint of insolence of his tone but the dwarf king didn't seem to be swayed by it.

"By law, Mirkwood falls under my jurisdiction. I would hope that you consult with me, young prince." He replied, his own body stiff as he continued to eye the prince and his company with utter suspicion.

Legolas felt the underlying distrust but he had no time to charm his way through the incredibly dense and supercilious dwarf. His mind had but one thing and one thing only.

_Where is Ada?_

He clenched his jaws while trying to maintain his calm. "But given the  _ignorance_ of its events, it'd take some time for you to bring everything under control. King Thranduil has ruled those lands for ages and he is the only one fitted to give council to the _sudden_ development."

His gaze shifted momentarily to the old dwarf who somehow sneaked behind him and was now making his way to the king. As he reached him, he whispered something in Thorin's ears and from the looks of it Thorin Oakenshield was not at all pleased with what had been said. For now, in his eyes, there was displeasure and...another emotion that almost  _resembled_ remorse. However, Legolas was no fool. Remorse over something the king did so willingly? Not considerable!

His heart beat faster when his mind went to the darkest of deductions. He prayed again for neither of them to be true as he frantically  _wished_ to get a glimpse of his father.

"Thorin Oakenshield," he spoke again, impatience bordering his voice, "Let me see my father. At once." His voice gave away that Legolas had no intention of spewing non-sense with the king. If Thorin refused, whatever be the cost, he'd shoot him then and there and make his way into the chambers.

He saw the strain behind Thorin's eyes and his heart leapt up in his throat.

What was wrong? Why was he being so hesitant?

He caught Thorin's eyes glancing over to the other dwarf who gave him a solid nod. The tension was palpable. Legolas could  _touch_ it now that it hung in the air. Why were they not letting him see his father? What was wrong with his father?

He glowered sternly at the dwarf king who seemed to be having an internal debate. With his peripheral vision, he saw his squad balancing on a very fine thread of restraint. One word from him—just a signal—would trigger their warrior instincts.

Just when Legolas felt his hands twitching to give that signal, he saw Thorin Oakenshield nod in agreement.

"But your guards stay outside." He said and Legolas narrowed his eyes at that.

Figuring this was the best proposition he could get and figuring that the older dwarf was also going nowhere, he saw no other option but to acquiesce.

"As will yours." He said and when Thorin too agreed, he signalled his elves to wait outside.

Seconds passed and with each fleeting moment, the flutter of restlessness fulcrumed up and down his chest along with the increasingly unsettling feeling which lay heavy. When it got to the point of him almost running out of the doors to find his father himself, he heard the heavy doors open.

The amount of relief that swept him like a wave was indescribable when he saw the sight of his father stepping towards him—with all the grace and calmness he possessed.

He gave his father a meaningful articulation with his eyes and when it was returned by the king with equal intensity, it took Legolas every bit of self control not to run to his father's side and embrace him tightly.

Thranduil halted just before the steps where Thorin was standing and turned towards his son. He looked regal as always but his entire body language couldn't conceal well enough the strain of keeping himself regal before a clearly unwanted range of attention.

Legolas bit his lips, completely wishing Thorin and his...advisor to leave the room. He wanted them gone. There was so much he wanted to tell Thranduil. So much he wanted to  _know_!

Luckily, the older dwarf caught the hint. He announced kindly, "Perhaps we should grant the laddie and his father some privacy, Thorin. After all, it has been long since they've seen each other and we really are intruding." He then addressed one of the guards and asked him to take Legolas and his father to another chamber.

Thorin shot him a disapproving look but that was not all Legolas caught. Somehow, the disapproval seemed force. As if a layer added to hide...a hint of longing? A hint of guilt?

Just then, Thorin's eyes flickered over to Thranduil and the way he looked at his 'spouse' did not concede a fear. A sense of anxiety that only came about as if Thorin was dragged away from the one he wished to keep close by.

Eventually he complied when he was met with a stern gaze.

As they left, Legolas noticed the glint of warmth in the old one's eyes as he was passed by Thranduil.

But what caught him by astonishment was the mellowed look which Thorin directed at his father, as Thranduil went past him—sparing him a glance but quickly tearing his eyes away the moment after.

When they were finally alone, Legolas' face broke into happiness and relief. He threw away all the shackles of social courtesy his body had been bound to as he hastened his way towards Thranduil.

Thranduil too didn't hold a straight face while he opened his arms, welcoming his son as Legolas gave him a tight and thorough embrace.

"Ada! Ada, are you alright?" He sounded extremely frantic while burying his face against the crook of his father's neck.

Thranduil's hands wound around him protectively as he pulled Legolas even closer to him as he too placed his cheek on top of his son's head.

"Do not worry about me,  _ion nín_! I am fine." His father's voice sounded overwhelmed with emotion and Legolas felt soothing and relieved caresses to his back and head as Thranduil too shook off the great worry that had burdened him for so long. "It is you that I worry about,  _penneth_. How do  _you_ feel?"

"I am alright, Ada. I'm sorry if I have caused you any worry on my behalf." Legolas said, not wanting to release himself from the embrace, "I'm sorry that my actions lead to this...this... _confounded insult_!"

"You were rash," Thranduil gasped, pulling his son apart enough to meet his eyes while cupping his cheeks. His eyes looked so horror-struck...and a very complicated blend of relief as he pulled his son to him once more. "But I'd willingly go ahead with thousands such contracts if I am given the chance to choose my pride and my son."

Legolas inhaled with enormous swelling of feelings as he buried his face yet again at the crook of his father's neck...the safest place in all of Arda.

"I will fix it, Ada. I will." He wheezed while clinging to the other. He felt the surge of emotions prickling his eyes and he made them half lid, focusing on the pale skin.

In all suddenness, he pulled apart and gazed back at Thranduil with every bit of horror exuding from his eyes.

Thranduil seemed shocked at his son's sudden change of emotions and he met his son's horrified expression with wide eyes of his own as he seemed to understand what triggered Legolas' reaction.

He said nothing and averted his eyes, which insinuated Legolas' anger.

"What is this?" He asked referring to the pale blue bruise skirting around Thranduil's throat, "Ada, who did this to you?"

Thranduil pulled apart and met his gaze with defiance and authority as he said, "None of your concern."

"None of my concern? Ada, this is no mere injury! What have they done to you? What has HE done to you?"

His body trembled with rage as he could guess well who would be the one to dare lay hand on his father. He swore, once he got his hands on him...

"Who will  _dare_ do anything to me?" Thranduil retorted back uncharacteristically and Legolas was momentarily taken aback.

"What do you think me to be, boy? A glass doll that can't defend himself? Do  _not_ forget who you are speaking to!"

Thranduil's eyes flashed for a few seconds before they regained his steely composure. Legolas, however, was well aware of his father's reactions and now he was more than confident of his resolve.

He felt the rage swell up within him and he gritted his teeth, trying hard not to murder that son of an orc right then and there.

He struggled with words for a while as he saw his father trying hard not to show his damaged pride before his son.

"He's going to pay."

"No one's going to pay." Thranduil replied with the solemnest voice which surprised Legolas to no ends.

"But Ada—"

"NO! Listen to me  _properly._ Do not be rash. We can't afford to be rash now. We need Thorin Oakenshield to be on our side and we need to honour this alliance now more than ever!"

Legolas couldn't help but express his confusion at his father's orders. "But Ada...even though I respect your judgement and forgive me if I sound silly...but do we absolutely need  _his_ assistance for something we ourselves can cope with?"

It was Thranduil's turn to be confused.

"What are you saying?" He asked, at which Legolas responded.

"Granted, I was extremely careless in trying to fend off those spiders by myself—rather, I was careless for letting my guard down—but I think we are well equipped to handle them, no matter what their numbers are! We can call for Rivendell's assistance or Loth Lórien's assistance, if need arises. Anything is better than relying on these...opportunist  _dwarves_!"

He didn't miss Thranduil's flinch to the use of that particular word. He could see the anger and hurt ego in his father's expressions but there was also traces of something underlying it all when Thranduil's lips twitched, as if he was trying very hard to keep his cold mask.

"You don't understand, at all?" His father spoke in a weary voice and the sudden change of attitude was all that was needed to thoroughly perplex Legolas.

"Understand what?"

"It's not only because of a few spiders! Something bigger is in play here. Why else do you think I'd be so willing to even  _considerate_ his alliance?"

Legolas further furrowed his brows at this. "Something bigger?"

He then recalled the conversation he had that night with his father.

Yes...he did mention a dark force...but Legolas had attributed it to the gathering of another bulk of pests. He didn't think something  _else_ would be controlling those spiders.

And then it all came together.

Of course! He launched the attack... _not_ the other way around. Yes, he did remember his father saying something about minions waiting for a dark force to direct them. Yes, he now remembered.

No wonder Mirkwood had seemed gloomier than usual...no wonder his father was so strict about not instigating anything on their own!

And it was then that he had an immense urge of banging his head against a hard rock wall. He was so  _stupid_!

He jeopardised everything and because of  _him_ , Thorin had the nerve to  _touch_ Thranduil!

His face demonstrated a wide range of emotions— from revelation, self- remorse, anticipation, worry to finally nothing but pure anger directed none other than Thorin Oakenshield.

"That opportunist bastard!" He exclaimed, realization hitting him hard of the fact that Thorin exploited Thranduil's fear and... _helplessness._

If what Thranduil had feared was true then without a proper leader, Mirkwood was in imminent danger. And if that leader stayed in Erebor, where the uncivilized king would enjoy flaunting his victory over Thranduil and where his father was in danger of being  _killed_ by the said king, then whatever hopes his father had in securing the alliance would go to utter vain.

Without any warning, he took off.

His ears vaguely registered the admonishing call of his father who followed him but Legolas paid no heed. He stormed off towards the throne room and was in no intent of slowing down.

He had to get his father out of here. He would have to get some answers and most importantly, he would have to keep Mirkwood and his father safe from that sordid, trailblazing excuse of a dwarf!

And if Thorin refused, then Legolas  _knew_ of better and  _unhindered_ ways.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm so...subtle signs of truce. But the truce will come! Please review!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Investment
> 
> Disclaimer: I hold no ownership to 'The Hobbit' and its characters.
> 
> Warning: Uh...cuss words?
> 
> AN: I was supposed to add this to the previous chapter but it became so long that I had to break it into two parts. Umm...this might lack a bit of drama and stuff compared to the last one.
> 
> Thank you for the amazing response. You guys are awesome!

 

**Chapter 18**

Thorin had his back turned as he was speaking to Balin in a low voice when all of a suddenly the door to the throne room flew open and in came Legolas followed by his father who was calling out to him in utter displeasure. The band of elves outside became alarmed and were about to follow him when they were stopped by Thranduil's gesture.

"You son of a bitch(1)! What have you done?"

Thorin barely had any time to get accustomed to this when all of a sudden he felt arms gripping his fur coat and Legolas sneering down at him.

"Legolas, put him down!"

Thranduil spoke something in his native tongue but Legolas didn't pay heed. "You dare lay your filthy hands upon my father?" He screamed on top of his lungs and it was all that Thorin would endure.

He roughly shoved the boy away from him and as Legolas' shock wore off into another feat of anger, Thorin gave way to his own anger as he looked sharply at the young elf.

"Who are you to accuse me of anything, elfling? Your father is no pious soul either. Ask him yourself!"

"I am asking  _you._ "

"I didn't defile him, if you should know!" Thorin responded darkly to which Legolas' anger only increased. "I never stoop so low. He can attest to it." He said, sparing a hesitant glance at Thranduil who narrowed his eyes and directed his attention at him.

"It's nothing but a spar, Legolas." He said with authority and his son seemed to be taken aback by surprise. "And if you must lash out without taking anything else in concern, then you do so at your own discretion!"

The boy seemed deflated as his father rebuked him.

"Ada—"

"Your rash act has landed us in so much trouble and I will NOT tolerate any further indiscretions, do you understand?"

Thranduil shot Thorin a brief and meaningful glare before directing his entire attention to his son.

"Legolas, do you  _understand_? _"_

It was visibly hard for Legolas to step away from Thorin but he eventually gave in before his father's orders and said while shooting a cold glare at the dwarf king, "Yes Ada."

As for Thorin, he was unsure of his reaction. It was very obvious that Thranduil intercepted because it would kill him before he made his son see his vulnerability and also...because according to Balin, he was their only hope of averting a nuisance.

He didn't trust Thranduil, he said to himself, but at this point, it was more like a chant to remind himself of that fact when his belief on the matter was swaying.

Yes, Thorin could not explain why but when Thranduil interrupted, he could no longer ignore the tug he felt in his heart. He was deeply ashamed of his outburst but because of it, he fully came to realize what was always there at the back of his mind.

Thranduil was beautiful.

Thranduil was wise, strong, beautiful and terrible. He was also kind. Thorin had seen his kindness. Thorin had seen the joyous look when Legolas first came to his view. Not only that, Thorin had seen those eyes reflecting gratefulness when he helped Thranduil's only son.

And he never admitted the warm feeling flooding his chest each time he remembered.

Legolas and Thranduil exchanged words in Sindarin—none of which was understandable to the dwarves. However, from their body language, Thorin could deduce that Thranduil was rebuking his son and was convincing him he was okay.

In the middle of that exchange, Thorin would catch Thranduil's eyes drifting over to him and settling there just for a mere moment before focusing back on Legolas. And perhaps it was his mind playing tricks, but was there something more than just diplomacy? Was there sympathy for him? Or a mellowed emotion when Thranduil looked at him?

Either way, there was no rage. Not anymore.

Thorin sighed and unwillingly tore his eyes from the two elves though his resolve didn't last long. As he did, he could feel the tug in his chest increasing.

Suddenly, he was fearful. But for what he had no idea of.

Meanwhile, father and son went on conversing in their native tongue.

Legolas too seemed to be asking him to do something and Thranduil seemed to altogether stop any kind of movement upon hearing whatever the prince had to say. His eyes were fearful and clouded with worry and his face froze in suspense. However, the elven king changed his demeanour as soon as the prince tensely argued some important point.

Briefly, Thranduil frowned and considered deeply and just as Legolas was trying to insist something, Thranduil nodded, apparently agreeing to Legolas' proposal.

After that, the prince approached him and said, "I apologize for my rashness. My father explained everything to me."

Thorin didn't entirely buy it but he had no option to disregard. Getting a look from Balin, he nodded.

"I accept it." He said and looked over at Thranduil whose face was illegible.

He brought his attention again to the elf prince who now straightened himself and spoke with an uncanny amount of authority—undoubtedly gained by imitating his father, "As you know, Mirkwood is in shambles. We have a great problem of spider infestation and just as Ada had suspected long before, they do seem to be waiting for a moment to strike. We need to improve our defences and that is looked solely by Ada."

Thorin's eyes started squinting in suspicion. He shot another glance at Thranduil who looked back with his usual iciness.

"I need him to come with us for a day or two. Our interim is not seasoned enough to properly handle the situation."

"And why isn't Thranduil not asking this himself? Since when has  _he_ let his son speak on his behalf?"

"Since he is not accustomed to be answerable to  _anyone._ " Thranduil finally spoke up and the coldness extended to his voice as well. "I'd ask you but you would never believe it coming from my mouth."

"And what makes you think I'll believe your son when he spoke of some matter, extremely deviating from the topic of Mirkwood?"

"You won't." Thranduil replied evenly and stepped forward, pushing his son back. "He was about to wage war. You'd be a fool to believe him."

"So then why  _should_ I?"

"Because it is not the only reason I'd come with my guards. For that, I alone am  _enough_!" Legolas broke in, shooting a cold look towards Thorin. In return, he received a disapproving look from his father and he fell quite as the elven king resumed his hold on the conversation.

"Because we are wedded. Our kingdoms are forged in an alliance even though  _we_ are not. And it is our alliance that ensures our safeguard against mutiny or anything of that ilk. And as from the recent reports, you'll find it enough of a cause to start strengthening our defences. And even if you extend your soldiers to Mirkwood, they'd be of no help. They do not know my realm as I do."

Thorin stared warily at the elf. He was in serious dispute over the sudden change in purpose. He was in serious shock at the icey tone both he and Thranduil bore. It borderlined on their old dispute...that which now caused Thorin ample lethargy.

Thranduil seemed to notice that for he spoke again, "You have no reason to disbelieve  _me._  Our terms are made and I'll not waste valuable resources in deceiving you. Nor am I the one to deceive any sort of legal binding. If you must know, I came to know of Legolas' request moments before you did. And because of its seriousness, I  _need_ to go handle my realm."

He looked convincingly at the dwarf and said in an honest tone, "I'll require about a month to make arrangements. Once they are made, I shall return. If I do not, you have every right to drag me back here."

It took a great amount of deliberation on Thorin's part before he finally agreed. Not for one second did he buy Legolas' words but he had no choice but to give the other the benefit of doubt.

"A month." He said, "And do not try and feign anything devious. My guards will escort you into the borders."

"A king's word." Thranduil responded and Thorin just  _hoped_ this didn't further increase complications. Now he had even bigger things to worry about. Like improving the defence of his own kingdom.

 _Just be glad of not dealing with a nuisance._  He reminded himself, as Balin had promised that Thranduil would take care of his impulsive son.

And impulsive he was!

* * *

As they left the borders and the dwarf guards, the elves silently made their way to Mirkwood. Thranduil spoke nothing as he seemed to be preoccupied with something and Legolas didn't dare interrupt his father's thoughts.

It worried him nevertheless. Ever since they left the halls o Erebor, Thranduil was disturbingly quiet. And Legolas hoped this sudden quietness was not due to  _Thorin,_ among other things. The brief traces of mellowness reflected off from Thranduil's eyes were worrisome.

When they were further into their route, he brought his horse next to his father's and said in a hushed tone, "It was a gamble but it paid off."

Thranduil looked straight ahead and said nothing at which Legolas continued, "Thank you Ada. Otherwise I'd feel so unsettled."

"And it never crossed you that if I could see through your deception, so could Thorin Oakenshield?" Thranduil replied with coldness in his voice and it made Legolas flinch. He wasn't used to receiving such a tone from his father.

"I didn't care. I just had to get you out of there. Ada, I do not know what happened between you two but I could never ignore a bruise around your neck!"

Thranduil's response was extremely unexpected. His eyes flared up and he hissed in a fatal voice, "You presumed I do not know how to take care of myself! You think I am a helpless sap? You weren't there. So never make preposterous presumptions! "

Legolas held back a gasp as he clearly saw he hit his father's nerves. He knew what he assumed to have taken place between the two kings was very probable...still, he decided to hold his tongue when it obviously damaged his father's pride.

"My apologies, Ada."

Thranduil was not done rebuking. He went on, "And you even lied to me. You had me there for one second but you are so transparent  _ion nín_! I can see through you! You lied about this danger. Do you take it so lightly?"

"I do not, Ada. I am sorry to have undermined you. I was just worried." Legolas responded bleakly, "I wasn't thinking clearly when I heard about your wedding. I was to blame. For all of it! I wanted to kill Thorin Oakenshield for insulting us. Brash, I accept. But do not ask me to sit quietly while my father had to agree to such insulting treaty  _just_ because of me! Do not ask me that, Ada!"

He saw his father's eyes softening as he explained, "I knew I had to see you. If he refused, he'd have to pay. I knew that much. And I...could no longer hold myself together when..."

He trailed off uncertainly and when Thranduil didn't reply back, he continued, "And I know Thorin Oakenshield bought none of my words. I know that. But I had to try. As you've said, he has bigger things to worry about than being massacred by a few elves. And...whatever you've said Ada, I _know_  we need you! It  _is_ true that our interim is not seasoned enough and I do not want to make another mistake again."

He paused, veering into Thranduil's eyes expectantly. Eventually Thranduil's glimpse had softened by a considerable amount and he nodded in forgiveness.

"Then let us prepare. We have not got long."

* * *

From atop a cliff, predatory eyes followed the small group which travelled below.

"Is it time?" A voice asked, full of malice of every kind imaginable.

"No, not yet." Another voice replied and followed it up by a vile chortle as his eyes settled on them with hunger. "We shall wait for a while longer.  _Then_  it happens."

The sick chortle now came from both and the one who gave the orders fixed his ravenous gaze on the small group. His eyes flickered with ravage as they landed upon their leader.

_Soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Back then, there surely were dogs. There were surely...female dogs. This just sounded better. You know as better as cuss words sound. Ugh never mind me, I'm babbling.
> 
> I have tried to hint the subtle changes in their feelings. I hope it shows.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Investment
> 
> Disclaimer: 'The Hobbit' would have a happier ending if I was the boss! :P
> 
> AN: Okay, so here you will get to see the transition in Thorin and Thranduil's feelings for each other...or at least I hope so. They make it look so easier in the movies but writing transitions are so tough! D:
> 
> Also, I fixed a couple of spelling mistakes in the last chapter. Pretty sure I got them but I remember having a typo but for the life of me, I can't seem to find it. If you guys come across it, please let me know? :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who've commented/kudo'd/bookmarked.

Thorin felt suddenly so vain. He had not the slightest idea why or what could be the proper justification of his feelings or lack of any, but when the elven king rode away with his son, Thorin Oakenshield couldn't find himself accepting this situation wholeheartedly.

No one ever walked away from him. None!

None had ever been subjected to such deep dark stirrings on Thorin's behalf. Why then was Thranduil? Why could Thorin never seem to keep him out of his mind? Why did he feel this unquenchable thirst to want to have Thranduil's submission?

He  _knew_ that he was obsessed. He  _knew_ that even now, he wanted Thranduil to be cooped up here in Erebor. With  _him._ It was such a perplexing and dangerous mix! He loathed him yet he couldn't get over him. Still...when he finally realized how close he was to lose his  _own_ humanity, Thorin couldn't help but shiver. He lost control...he  _almost_ lost control.

Thranduil's fearful eyes stirred some dark desires in him which were extremely unhealthy. And now that his mind wandered over to past events, he couldn't but feel a heavy feeling settling in his chest.

He kept feeling maybe it was he who was to blame in entirety; maybe his elf decided to stay in Mirkwood forever and maybe...

_Maybe he would've stayed if I showed restraint. Why didn't I?_

Why couldn't he have his respect? Or was it something more?

_Admiration?_

"...securing the walls. A few garrisons are also standing by, securing our main gate—should anything dare cross our great defences."

The dwarf king was suddenly snapped back into his full attention as bits of Balin's words entered his ears.  _When_ he was away from said full attention was all but a matter of question— the answer to which, he didn't know himself.

Balin cleared his throat and looked skeptically at Thorin. Thorin looked back at the other with an unreadable face but that seemed to have no effect on the much experienced dwarf.

"Now is not the time for your daydreaming laddie!" He was scolded by the older dwarf and even though he was tempted to let out an acknowledging hum, his frown deepened immediately after.

"Daydreaming? I assure you Balin, I have no time for that luxury." He said with all the sternness he could muster.

"And yet, you find to do so exactly  _amidst_ our discussion of defense tactics."

The look Balin had was all too knowing and Thorin could not run from it. When his face glinted up with surprise, Balin continued, "And you're worrying about something that doesn't need your attention at the moment. You've never had to be told to prioritize, Thorin Oakenshield." Balin paused, his gaze piercing Thorin's eyes and trapping him then and there. "So tell me. What has changed  _now_?"

The dwarf king's eyes grew wider with surprise just as his face clenched tighter. He gazed back at the other for quite a while, unable to find anything suitable for response before he tore his gaze away and became extremely grounded.

"Nothing has changed now, Balin. I worry about the safety of our realm which always needs my attention. I bother about the safety of my people, those who are closest to me. " He said, his voice automatically growing rationale— as though it was him who needed much assurance.

"It seems that one of those who are closest to you is making you compromise for the rest of us, laddie. It is a good thing to know what drives you but now is the time to  _listen_ and prepare. The right time will come for you to  _make this right."_

Briefly, Thorin's eyes flashed with something other than anger. He felt a burning sensation on the tip of his ears and nape as he looked indignantly at the other.

He couldn't have possibly meant by what he said!

"Exactly  _what_  are you implying?" He asked with a bit of gruffness more than he had expected to let out but thankfully, Balin did not seem offended by it.

"I know my priorities. I have heard the strategy and I approve of it and I would appreciate you not making any kind of presumptions." He said in a tone that left no room for further argument.

Balin wielded to his command and went back to the planning of the tactics with Thorin listening intently. However, no matter how much Thorin rationalized, he couldn't deny one little thing.

His mind kept going back to the icy cold glare of another king and suddenly how...strange he felt as he saw the other king retreat...

* * *

The clearing they came to was peaceful with plenty of sunshine. It was already midday and having travelled so much distance with no breaks in between, Thranduil and the others welcomed the much needed relief as they unmounted from their horses.

While the company was busy with setting up food and shelter, Thranduil kept to himself, extremely distracted for reasons vague to him.

He was a few feet away from the rest of them and took no interest in engaging with their activities. Or even talking with his son.

He had a bad feeling while he set out for his journey home and even though he had tried convincing himself in every possible way that he was needed there, that he should've  _stayed_ there to begin with...he couldn't help but feel himself to be an incentive liar.

_Who_  he was lying to—even if he  _was_ lying at all—was utterly unimportant. That he too was lied to, he tried to remind himself with growing forcefulness.

_Not only lied but taken advantage of._

His innards churned in rebel as memories of deceit and usage of force came rushing in but in spite of all, he could not help but feel having the urge to question his action.

"Ada?"

He turned around to see Legolas, who had taken up a spot beside him. His son seemed concerned and rightly so. Thranduil always was aloof. But even  _he_ felt another dimension to his aloofness at that very moment. So why not others?

He spared a glance to the prince and waited for him to speak. Legolas seemed to catch the queue and ask, "Are you alright? You don't seem—"

They could not even start their conversation as the distinct sound of rustling of dried leaves reached their ears.

Legolas' vision seemed sharply focused in the direction of that sound and Thranduil found himself to grow increasingly alarmed with every passing second. He looked around and signalled his guards to fall into a closed formation as he himself drew his sword and waited in alertness.

Another crack of a fallen branch was heard and the elves held their ground, tightening their grips on their weapons.

Then for a long while, everything seemed still. A thickening state of silence engulfed the entire opening and the more they waited, the more palpating that quietness became.

Then it happened.

Balls of fur came out from nowhere from the borders and in a lightning fast speed, encircled the small group of elves. Snarls filled the still air and evil laughter echoed all over the clearing as the orcs charged the elves on their wargs.

The elves managed to scatter from their central position but the balls of fur and their ghastly riders were right behind them. The orcs were vicious and were determined not to leave any survivors but the elves were far more skilled than their mutilated counterparts.

Swords clattered, arrows were fired. Some of the enemy met their fate and some got extremely injured.

Still they were far too many to handle.

Thranduil managed to slash off an orc and was making his way towards a nearby fallen tree when he was faced with another one. That filthy creature crossed swords with him and was about to hack him when suddenly, the elf king crouched down, just in time missing the death blow by inches. When a second's momentum caused the orc to slow down, Thranduil took that opportunity and drove his sword deep into the enemy's chest. His eyes flickered over to his son.

Legolas was handling his own share quite well. He leapt from the ground and into the trees, shooting orc after orc, never missing a single shot. He then leapt on to the ground and was making his way towards the same fallen tree Thranduil had spotted earlier to take cover, killing a few good number of the enemy along the way.

The company was faring well considering but the number of the enemy grew too fast.

Thranduil dove for the tree and took refuge as spheres and arrows went over his head and into the strong bark. He hacked off a few more orcs successfully but found that the lot of them soon closing in on  _him._

"Too many of them," he heard Legolas' voice coming from right beside him. The prince was successful in taking cover and was voicing the implied concern that all of them felt.

_Too many to handle._

Thranduil knew but at that point, he could do nothing. It was then that his mind made the connection. The orcs had been waiting for that ambush. They were planning on striking at the opportunity they got when the king and his son would be out of their realm and more vulnerable. And without them, Mirkwood would soon fall without proper guidance.

His chest constricted with the sudden rush of fear.

_It_  had begun.

* * *

Thorin and Balin were walking down the corridors when they were stopped in their tracks by a guard. His eyes seemed rabid and he seemed frantic with fear and worry.

"My lords!" He screamed out, "Our guards just outside the city...they were attacked my lords! On their way back, they are attacked by wargs and trolls!"

"What? What did you say?" It was Balin who lost his sense of calm and early screamed at the guard.

"Yes my lord! They are holding off as best as they can. I was sent to ask for more assistance! "

"And what of the company?" The old dwarf asked and if he spared a second's gaze at the king, he could see how Thorin's face tightened with sudden flashes of worry.

"I...we don't know! It was an ambush!"

The guard was panting hard and before Balin could even turn to face the other, Thorin suddenly took off.

"Have a garrison ready." He said grimly, "We are off to battle!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much experienced with action scenes. ^^; But now, I'm bringing it all in. Hopefully *now* it makes perfect sense of the whole plot. If there are any loopholes, please point them out. I will clean it up right away! But for now, what do you think? Please review~ :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own 'The Hobbit' as much as I own the Eiffel Tower or Facebook.
> 
> Warning: Multiple P.O.V shifts.
> 
> AN: Another fight sequence(s)? Yes! Because...I kinda always wanted to write action! And because the plot demanded it but well, mostly because I wanted to write action! ^.^ No matter how un-actiony it might be! Yesh! And also, action is the only way two enemies turn friends *fast*. Okay you did NOT just read that. Delete, delete! I mean...forget, forget!
> 
> To everyone who've supported this fic- Thank You! :D

All around, there lay destruction. Orcs fell in plenty as did some of the elven guards. But no matter how many orcs were slain, many more quickly replaced their number. It got to the point where Thranduil knew that no amount of strategies or stealth would ensure them getting out of that clearing, let alone ensure them victory.

"This was a terrible idea." He heard someone shout in the background and needless to say, he couldn't agree more.

Beside him, Legolas was aiming for an enemy who chose to strike them from a great distance. Just as Legolas was about to draw one arrow from his quiver, a few of those flew by him, missing him merely by inches. He hissed and shot, already beginning to understand that they had bitten off more than they could chew. They also had one added unfavourable factor. Weariness.

The company was now feeling the exhaustion and the statistics working against them.

Thranduil for his own part was calculating an escape strategy. They were not too far from Erebor and he vaguely wondered if there could be some way for him to ask for backup. It then also struck him that if they were here under attack, was it possible that Erebor too was under an ambush?

His innards churned at that very thought. Thorin was making preparations. He knew that much...but what if they were taken off guard? Just as it had happened during the fall of Erebor? What would happen if the only alliance he had thought was suitable to make was in no shape to help them?

Out of nowhere, a scream was heard as a heavy sword struck on the hard wood, almost grazing Thranduil. The elf king looked up. With much thanks to his practiced reflexes and instinct, he quickly dodged another attack and blocked a sword which was intending to hack his head off.

He met the foul creature face to face. The way it smiled bore no resemblance to its heritage it had once a very long time ago.

The creature seemed to be sickeningly pleased to cross swords with him. It chortled horridly and said, "It be my lucky day! I can't wait to drive my sword in  _you,_ Elven king."

Thranduil sneered and blocked another attack with ease.

"You will be worn out very soon." It went on, "And when you do, I'll take you prisoner. You'll be  _mine._ "

"In your filthy dreams!" Thranduil snarled and cut a deep wound on the creature's shoulder.

It hissed in pain but charged with double strength the moment after.

"No king, no blockage. Mirkwood will soon be  _ours._ Erebor will meet a worse fate as will your tiny friend."

Thranduil hissed and went past the defending sword and drove his own into the orc's chest with lightening speed. The orc choked and fell, twitching in pain moments before it died.

However, what it had said resonated in Thranduil's mind like a never ending spiral of horror. So Erebor  _had_ been attacked. And even though he didn't doubt Thorin Oakenshield's strength, he suddenly found his confidence on him to wane due to the odds against him. The enemy was too many in number. And not only the orcs, had he feared. From the reports, it was clear that other ghastly kind was in on it too...and if one fell, the other would soon take its place and would not rest till the kings and their kingdoms were exponentially damaged.

Elves and dwarves out of the way, soon a time would come for the men.

His mind reeled back to Erebor. To the grand halls and throne of the great dwarf kingdom. And like a strange and unexplainable dream, faces flashed in his mind.

A face of Balin. And a face he never thought of imagining. That of Thorin Oakenshield.

"LOOK OUT!" Thorin let out a scream as he and a few others dove away from the swing of the troll's heavy club. They were met with two wargs, salivating at them hungrily and they finished them off with ease before diverting their attention to the troll at hand.

Thorin took his sword and with amazing reflexes, thrust it into its leg and when it fell, he delivered the killing blow. He looked around and saw the damage that had been caused.

Many dwarves had fallen, taking with them a large portion of the enemy. But they were growing in number too quickly. However for the time being, the dwarves being greater in strength, the enemy was kept at bay.

"Uncle!" Thorin's attention was grabbed by the eldest of his nephews who ran up to him with a grave concern.

"Uncle, what about the elf king?" Fíli said with panic laced voice.

Thorin's brows flew up in alarm. The elf king? They were under attack too? They must've been subjected to the same surprise as the dwarves. And if it was any indication, then Thranduil's fear was genuine.

His whole body tensed and he suddenly felt a wave of chill in his chest. The fate of Middle Earth was in his mind as the chill ran down his spine. However, that concern seemed to be  _secondary_.

"Thanduil and his men are too few to handle such a vast army!" Fíli's voice entered his ears and he was stunned all of a sudden for reasons unknown. Only 'Thranduil' registered in them however.

Thorin under normal circumstances would completely ignore the concern and would let them handle it themselves. However, he didn't know what came over him all of a sudden. A streak of protectiveness rippled through his entire body and before he could even fathom what his orders were, he was already directing Fíli to gather a garrison as he hastened to the route the elves had taken.

Thranduil found them to be ghastly outnumbered. Only a few of his elves remained and even they were feeling the tremendous pressure. Legolas carried on but he was showing increased signs of exhaustion.

Thranduil himself felt fatigue settling in him and he just  _knew_ at that point that there was no getting out of this. Unless a miracle happened.

"Ada." He heard Legolas' disdained voice, "What now?"

Thranduil shook his head to respond that he too had not the slightest idea. He found it hard to accept but it seemed that their fate was resigned.

They still fought with the last reserve of strength that they had left but it too was deflating as time went by.

Just when it seemed that their fate was sealed, from a distance he heard the sound of a horn. It was no orc horn, neither was it that of an uruk-hai squad.

As the riders got closer, the horn was blown again followed by the sound of a raging war cry that could only belong to one distinctive group.

Thranduil welcomed the wash of relief but before he could fully rejoice at their renewed chance, he was suddenly caught off guard by a warg jumping towards him.

He heard Legolas' scream nearby but he had not enough time to move away. He crouched down and gritted his teeth, hands on hilt when suddenly the animal squealed in utter pain and fell over to the side.

Thranduil noticed the deep wound and a pool of blood seeping out from its chest and looked up in amazement at the one who possibly saved his life.

"Getting rusty there, Elf?"

It was Thorin who was smirking at the elven king. At that moment, Thranduil forgot all his animosity towards the other as he stood in stun.

"By the Valar, you came!" He managed to say and didn't even try and conceal the wonder he felt.

Thorin nodded and unbeknownst to him, his face reflected a certain  _glad_...glad to see the elf alive and _impressed_ even for him to hold out so long so effectively.

"By the Valar, you were right." He responded. However, their reunion was cut abruptly short when the bulk of orcs and wargs targeted them.

"As I am  _always._ " Thranduil said, readying himself for attack. When the orcs launched attack on them, Thorin and Thranduil lunged ahead and the battle continued with new found vigour and strength from the elves and the dwarves.

The battle went on for hours and the damage done because of it had also been great for both sides. However, it was the dwarves and Thranduil's company that finally won. Piles of bodies of trolls, wargs, orcs were scattered on both battle fields. Bodies of dwarves and most of Thranduil's elves too were around.

Whatever orcs and wargs remained, they scampered back and retreated with tails between their legs. It wasn't over yet. This only set up a prelude to greater danger in the future but for now, they were safe. The damage had been heavy but the victory was resolute.

Thranduil had checked on his son who had received injuries but nothing too severe, much like his own. Fíli was busy overseeing how many of his men were able and was taking count. The dwarves were tending to their wounds and the elves that remained were surprisingly being extremely co-operative.

However, Thranduil looked around for only  _one_ dwarf. He spotted him standing isolated from the others and it was so unlike of him not to gloat his victory and over the fact that he 'saved' the day!

Thranduil was beginning to approach him when all of a sudden, he saw Thorin sway dangerously on his feet. Before he knew it, his feet carried him over to the other king and quickly caught him as Thorin fell unconscious.

"Thorin!"

Thranduil felt his hands over the dwarf and tried to look for any signs of fatal wound. His frown deepened when he felt something wet and sticky near the shoulder blade and bringing it up, he saw his hand deep red with blood. Thorin was losing way too much of it and if it went on for any longer, he would die.

"Thorin!" He called out again, trying to bring the dwarf back to consciousness. When the other didn't stir, Thranduil felt a cold pit settling in his stomach.

"No!" He suddenly felt so desperate. This person was his enemy. He should've left him then and there for all the harsh treatment but he found himself unable to do so. Instead, his dread grew. A dreary image of Thorin's body lying cold and stiff flashed in his mind that disturbed thranduil greatly.

"No. No no no!" He pressed his hands on the gushing wound and looked around to try and spot anyone. But none were there at that point with proper supplies to somehow patch Thorin up. Frustrated, Thranduil now looked for a horse.

Suddenly, he was too  _scared_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooohhhhhhh...DRAMA! Or drama-ish. Right. Sooooo...please review~


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.
> 
> AN: This is all about acceptance. And the end of dark!Thorin. I wanted him to be dark because of his obsession. Not because of the lingering gold sickness of Thrór. I wanted to show that obsession runs in his family and in Thorin it was suppressed, triggered only when the right time came. And his pride intervened. I hope it came across without looking so...choppy. ^^;
> 
> I apologize for the long delay. I am so unsure about my schedule at the moment. I think the updates will be a bit slower, guys. I am sorry! But thanks everyone for putting up with my craziness and supporting me. :)

The first thing Thorin felt was a sharp pain in his shoulder. The very next thing he noticed was the comfort of a mattress and warm sheets. He frowned as confusion set in.

Wasn't he in...battle?

He tried to clear up his mind and focused on recollecting the whereabouts of the battle. He remembered all of that fighting; he remembered standing by Thranduil...he remembered getting hurt and falling unconscious. So how did he—

With a sudden realization, his eyes grew bigger and he tried sitting up, only to wince in pain the moment later. Before a string of curses could leave his mouth, he felt a warm hand on his chest, forcing him to lie down.

He frowned and took a look at that person, only to have his surprise magnified at the very sight of him.

"You?" He said weakly, before feeling his face being heated up at the oncoming emotions.

Thranduil nodded and brought him a medicine which he made Thorin drink.

It tasted horrible.

But Thranduil was looking at him with a rebuking expression which  _dared_  Thorin to spit it out.

"You...saved me." He finally managed to say as the upsurge of emotions rampaged his heart, but in a nice way.

Thranduil nodded and replied just as his eyes had softened, "You forget King under the mountain. It was you who had saved me. And my son. I'm grateful."

He bowed his head in respect and Thorin prayed to every deity out there for his heart to stop beating so hard. His face and ears were burning and all of a sudden, he found it so hard to meet Thranduil's gaze.

"My...pleasure."

He mentally berated himself for even coming up with that reply! But for some reason, he really found it so hard to speak.

For a moment, there was silence. Not borne out of rage or sullenness...but because it was so new and so awkward not to be at each other's throats. As if to try and not shift too much, Thorin played with the fabric of his sheets and stole glances at his saviour.

Thranduil seemed to be out of place as well for he too shifted his gaze much too frequently, trying to decide where he should look best.

Although it was the elven king who— after a prolonged pause—decided to break the silence.

"They are not done. They shall be waiting for another moment to strike. And that will be more formidable than what he had seen this time."

Thorin nodded, his face set to an undeterred expression as he considered the full force of the situation.

"They planned to strike when we all had our guards down." Thorin frowned and looked up to meet Thranduil's gaze. Suddenly, when those soulful blue eyes landed upon him, he could barely suppress a flutter that he felt in his heart.

Steadying himself, he continued, "Before all this began, I was supposed to go and meet Elrond of Rivendell."

At the mention of the elf lord, he saw Thranduil getting perplexed as he tilted his head to wait for Thorin's explanation.

"He too felt a power so dark that it worried not only him but Lady Galadriel. He said he needed to inform me of what he believed to be the conjecture of the Dark Lord's power. The One Ring, they call it."

At its mention, Thranduil's eyes shone with a feeling of recognition before they grew wide and anxious, while his mind made all the necessary connections leading to the present events. His face grew solemn all of a sudden and it seemed that the king was not unfamiliar of this great evil they were speaking of.

He shifted his line of vision and held Thorin's orbs as he peered into them intensely. Those bright blue circlets bore into Thorin and read whatever he had in his mind with an eased effort.

It was then that Thorin realized: no matter how young Thranduil had and would always look, he was a being far ancient than himself or his even his grandfather. Those eyes...they were so antiquated; so well endowed with knowledge, experience and wisdom that belied the youthfulness of Thranduil's features.

It was then that Thorin noticed how expressive those eyes had been. Up until that point, all he had seen reflected from those pair of blue were anger, rage and pride. He had seen how they flashed as Thranduil graced fury as wild as the raging sea. He had seen arrogance that exuberated endlessly no matter how many times Thorin had tried to make him submit. He had seen tact and victory over opponents.

But that was not all.

He had seen desperation that drove him to agree to such scandalous terms. He had seen sorrow for a son left all alone back in his kingdom. He had seen a father's hope as he prayed to his deity to heal his child. A guardian's concern for want of relieving his people of great loss.

And now that he lay on his bed, Thorin saw kindness for a _living_   _being_ and Thranduil's appreciation for life.

It was that moment that Thorin truly realized how little he knew of this beautiful creature beside him. And at that moment, whatever bouts of darkness he had felt growing in him began draining away.

Thorin realised that it was his unwillingness to accept his attraction towards the elf that increased his pride. And it was that pride which caused his obsession. It was that obsession that had brough those inhumane thoughts and desires within him.

Now that he accepted them, he felt more relaxed. His mind felt more at ease.

Awkwardness stretched between both kings and when Thorin was sneaking glances at the other, he thought he had noticed a light dust of red on the elven king's cheeks.

Thranduil was biting his lips, a light frown appearing between his thick and luscious brows. It was then that Thorin had to admit: Thranduil was  _exquisite._

He inhaled deeply, fighting hard to keep his blush down and at the sound of that, Thranduil looked up and considered him for a while.

"I'm...sorry. I apologize for the way I've treated you from the start." Thorin finally spoke with so much hesitance and shame over his actions. "I...especially  _that_ incident. It wasn't me. I'm ashamed. I—I apologize."

He was taken aback when he felt slender hands taking hold of his own and squeezing them. Thranduil at that moment was looking at Thorin with mellowed eyes that reflected the shame of those past incidents but there was an emotion of something else peeping out from behind them.

That of hope. Acceptance.

"I forgive you." The elven king said softly much to Thorin's bewilderment. "And...I too apologize for my actions that fuelled your hate for me. For what it's worth...I'm willing to rebuild our trust, Thorin Oakenshield."

"As am I."

As a reply, Thranduil's eyes softened and shone as the barest hint of a smile crossed his lips.

Suddenly, Thorin's eyes portrayed the surprise he suddenly felt at a realization.

Balin was right...he was enchanted by this elf. He was  _obsessed._

And maybe even in love...

He stole another glance at the other and composed himself. He knew it wasn't the most appropriate of times but...he feared if he waited longer, he'd only be complicating things further.

"I realize it is not the best of moments," he began, concealing his nervousness even though his heart beat wildly. Thranduil's attention was fixed on him and perhaps he was mistaken but the elf too seemed to be a tinge of the lightest shades of red.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin finally did what was advised to him by his most trusted friend.

"Thranduil...I- you're something." He said, cringing inwardly as the elf tilted his head, "You're repulsive, arrogant, proud, snarky—everything that makes me want to strangle you. And believe me, I almost did. You know it."

"What are you getting at?" Thranduil finally asked, completely confused by that point.

"Well...even so. I think whatever I did was because I was obsessed with you. Obsessed with wanting you to submit. Accept my dominance. Accept  _me_! And...in spite of everything, I hope one day, you will accept me. As a friend if not as a...and— and should you want, I can arrange for an annulment of our marriage. Which was without your proper consent. Or mine. And we can be peaceful—"

Thorin was cut off abruptly by a pair of lips being pressed against his. He gasped and opened his mouth, willingly accepting the sweetness that was Thranduil before he dipped the elf and took charge of the kiss just as it had deepened.

It seemed, they poured all of their passion into it and when their lungs burned and air was an absolute necessity, Thranduil pulled away, staring with his beautiful blue orbs at Thorin's amused pair.

He smiled softly and placed his finger on the dwarf's lower lip as he spoke quietly, "I forgive you, Thorin Oakenshield and I accept you."

"You do?" Thorin had to ask. He never imagined it to be that way. He never in his wildest dreams imagined Thranduil to reciprocate his feelings.

The elf's smile grew as he took in the other's innocent expression.

"Yes." He nodded, "I know it'll take some time but I too must confess. Adamant as you are, you have a fire and a drive that I have not had the privilege of seeing for centuries. I think you've made a room for yourself in my heart. And with this new chance given to us, I'm willing to see where this takes us."

At that, the smile that graced Thorin was the brightest than any star shining on Durin's day. He brought his hands up and caressed the smooth cheeks of the other as his heart grew warmer and warmer by the second.

"So am I." Thorin replied, taking Thranduil by the hand and giving a small peck on it, eliciting a dark shade of red on his own cheeks. "And whatever threat it is, no matter  _how_ strong it is, you'll have my full support."

"And you shall have mine." Thranduil answered, a light blush crawling on to his own cheeks as well with Thorin's show of adoration. "And despite everything, I promise to work out the differences of our races. And those between us."

"Are you willing to go forth with this marriage then?" Thorin asked and as his tone grew thicker and strained with an unnaturally optimistic emotion, his heart beat wildly inside his chest, stirring every single emotion within of which he was previously unaware of.

Thranduil's eyes suddenly fluttered away from him and landed on the elf's hands. The tinge in his cheeks grew darker and the more he tried suppressing it, more vivid it became.

"I shall appoint a guardian temporarily. I shall oversee some of it as well till my son is able to take hold." He said finally, lifting his gaze that conveyed a warm feeling of their own.

"And it won't take long." Thorin smiled, not missing a father's pride shining brightly in his eyes before he warned, "It'll be rough to handle."

"You take risks."

"Will it be worth it?"

"We shall see." Thranduil smiled and with a bit of hesitance, placed his hand on Thorin's own, giving it a reassuring squeeze when he grew accustomed to the gesture and lovingly accepting it, "You've invested in something far sillier. Why not invest in this  _now_?"

"Are you up for it?" Thorin asked, at which Thranduil laughed and nodded his head.

"Then so be it. "

With that, Thorin pulled Thranduil closer towards him and taking a hold of his chin, kissed him with the most sensuality he reserved only for his 'One'.

As for Thranduil, the fact that he allowed Thorin to take charge again and responded with growing love at the sweet kiss spoke volumes of what they were.

And as their kiss deepened further, it held a testament to what they  _could_ be.

It'd not be easy. A rough road lay ahead of them but it was a start. And none of them wanted to throw this beautiful beginning away—one that held promises of the future.

One that held promises of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will follow an interlude and some fluff. Kinda like a fast forward in their relationship before the final arc takes place.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think of this so far. Please review!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thorinduil would be so cannon if I had owned 'The Hobbit'. But I don't and it's not. :(
> 
> AN: SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY! I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY! D:
> 
> This chapter is all about love. Love love love. It is a collection of short snippets which show the growing development in Thorin and Thranduil's relationship. It is the cheater's way out but it's about time, yeah? The next bit will definitely be the last arc after which, I'll wrap this fic up. I have tentative plans for it because I planned to end it in chapter 21. But there wasn't ample Thorinduil and we all crave it, right? So I'm churning it in my mind and hopefully, it'll go well with the rest of the story.
> 
> A huge thanks to everyone for their support and patience.

Thorin scrunched up his face, turning away slightly as the bitter smell of herbs and whatnot entered his nostrils. He often wondered how a small cup of that sickly green potion could look so obnoxious.

It wasn't bad smelling. It was  _putrid._

He groaned when the cup was shoved further towards his mouth and the smell alone made his insides churn with nausea. He made a face and shot a glare towards the other, pressing his lips even tighter than before. However, when he found pair of icy blue eyes penetrating his very soul with a steady and non-approving gaze, the resolve that stubbornly had built up within him quickly began flushing away.

"But I don't  _need_  it." He finally sneered, cringing immediately when a particular injury to his rib gave away.

Thorin sighed and made a face when the other simply rolled his eyes and shoved the liquid even further towards his mouth.

"It is apparent to me that you do." Thranduil replied, patiently waiting by Thorin's bedside, as if he had no better things to do.

His gaze then softened a little and he took a seat on the bed, and placed a hand as he spoke with a gentleness which Thorin had come to find very soothing, "Days have passed. Had it not been for this medicine, you'd never heal so quickly." He tilted his head slightly and his eyes twinkled with a quiet happiness when he felt rough and calloused fingers entwining with his own.

Thorin had to agree. There wasn't a single look which didn't make the elf any less beautiful. If the other was furious, he'd give off a terrible beauty seen in the most raging fire. And when Thranduil had begun showing his more sensitive side, the softness that graced him rivalled the most gentlest of moonbeams.

Lifting their clasped hand, Thorin gently kissed those creamy white knuckles, smiling when his eyes caught a tinge of red creeping on the elf's cheeks.

"Had it not been for this hard-headed elf, I'd never heal at all." He smiled, his face faltering slightly when traces of distress bordered Thranduil's features. Seeing the restrained panic in the pair of bright eyes, he rebuked himself mentally and quickly corrected, "Because I wouldn't  _be_  injured!"

The haughtiness suddenly returned in Thranduil's demeanour and he raised a brow as he replied back, "Because there would be none to fight for you to be injured."

"Oh liar!" Thorin huffed, rolling his eyes again as he smirked, "You were so glad to see me. Admit it."

"As were  _you_!" Thranduil retorted back indignantly before shaking his head and try and hide the blush which threatened to deepen at both Thorin's words and his. To make things worse, the way Thorin was looking at him with a proud smirk and a raised eyebrow made Thranduil's heart skip a beat every so often and he could even feel his ears burning.

Thorin noticed that and played with their clutched finger, never looking away from his blushing spouse. In response, he received a huff from the elf making him shoot a glare at the other when the drought was roughly pressed against his lips.

Thorin had no option now but to swallow. As he did, he felt his eyes popping out from his skull as his whole stomach came up to his throat. With extreme difficulty, he forced the bitter, obnoxious tasting liquid down his throat and resisted an urge to stick out his tongue.

He heard Thranduil letting out an amused smile and before he could say anything to the elf, he found himself smiling when Thranduil's sweetness overrode the nasty fluid when the other pressed his lips over him.

* * *

"And so Gondor can provide us with a route from..."

One of the cons of being a king was that Thorin had to endure hours of boring lectures and meetings—all requiring his  _urgent_ attention—whether the matter be related to something military or be as trivial as trading cotton in exchange for metal handicrafts.

The advisor spoke for what it seemed to him like hours. The dull tone he had been using did no good to capture Thorin's attention. Rather, it lulled him to a nap.

Slowly Thorin closed his eyes. Nodding occasionally, he clasped his hand around his chin—an act that made  _anyone_ look focused and serious—and as the slow hum faded into a background, he welcomed the nice comfort of sleep.

Thorin startled to a wake when a sharp sensation throbbed on his left bicep. He frowned and felt relieved when the advisor didn't notice his  _attention_  before turning his head to his left.

He glared immediately when he saw Thranduil giving off an admonishing look. When he realized it was  _Thranduil_ who had  _pinched_ him, Thorin's glare hardened as he turned away and sluggishly listened to the ongoing rant in front of him.

Or he pretended.

If there was one good thing of having his spouse attend court with him, then it'd have to be Thranduil's eons of experience as a king to provide solid guidance.

And endure painful boredom.

"What are your thoughts on this matter, Your Majesty?" The advisor finally finished, looking with great expectance at the king and his elven spouse.

Thorin raised a brow and was about to ask the other to give him time for dwelling upon this matter. But suddenly, a slow smirk crept on his lips and ignoring the dubious look on the fair one's face, he said, "As Thranduil is well-versed in the knowledge of man kingdom, you should ask for his opinion."

The advisor looked confused and shifted his glance at Thranduil but Thorin didn't let his focus linger on the elf as he said, "I would ask you to go ahead and set the trade. However, as Thranduil is my spouse and most importantly, since he has ruled the Woodland Realm for millennia, you'd be honoured to listen to what he has to say."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Thranduil glower at him. However, soon the advisor's attention was captured by Thranduil as he poured his wisdom.

Thorin had half a mind to listen as well. But when he followed the example of the other half, he knew very well that he'd need a lot more than sweet words to calm his love down.

* * *

Thranduil lay quietly on the bed, a serene expression splayed all over his form as he read a book of poems. He felt his eyes flutter shut when jets of familiar, warm breath hit his skin. Ignoring the racing if his heart and even the tiny blush rising on his cheeks, he went on reading.

His breath hitched when a hand was placed on his shoulder. Slowly and gently it began descending down his side before coming back up again.

Thranduil stretched his legs and with each movement of the hand, he copied the gesture exactly as one of his legs brushed up and down the other.

A warm and fuzzy feeling gathered at the pit of his stomach when the hand stopped caressing his side and rested on his waist, tugging him gently, making Thranduil to drop the book and face none other than the one to whom he had given his heart.

"I was reading." Thranduil rebuked gently. Much like his tone, his eyes too reflected the mirth and playfulness as he shyly looked up to the other's gentle face.

Thorin's lips curled to a gentle smile and he went on caressing Thranduil's side, eliciting a deep shade of red from the other.

Engulfed in a soothing shower of love and safety, Thranduil gingerly brought his hand up and placed it on Thorin's chest. He looked down, momentarily seeming unsure for he had never been so open in gestures with another male.

Soon, his dithering wavered away. Instead, his heart was filled with surety as decided to follow it. He brought his eyes up, meeting Thorin's gaze while he began stroking the dwarf's chest with a small touch of hesitance in the beginning.

Thorin's hand left his waist and travelled to his back, rubbing smooth circles over it as he used his legs to caress Thranduil's own.

Thranduil exhaled softly when the legs left and settled to a spot beside his own pair. His eyes were shining bright with joy and an uncommon form of love which he felt towards the other. A love so different from that shared between a parent and a child. A love he had not felt for hundreds of years after the passing of his wife. A love which he forgot to be so wild and passionate; which swept him away in a storm and yet, in its own way was so gentle and soothing and comforting.

Thorin's hand left his back and gently moved over his waist and across his chest before settling under his chin. The look in those warm eyes was so inviting. One gaze into them and Thranduil felt a tug in his heart. His eyes were now gleaming bright as he felt drawn impeccably towards the dwarf.

Then, as his stubble fingers curled round Thranduil's chin and began tilting his head, the elf's heart began thumping so wildly that he closed his eyes, letting the sensations flood all over him.

He forgot to breathe as a plethora of emotions swirled inside of him. He felt lost when his lips were gently captured by Thorin's, brushing and moving with him as if they were not two but one pair which moved in perfect harmony.

And that was what Thranduil felt in him as he parted his lips and welcomed Thorin whole heartedly. Perfect harmony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing Thorin did during the advisor's boring lecture...well...it works. It really does. Yours truly has done it in class when it was simply *excruciating* to hear what the professor had to say. His voice was just as dull and boring. Much like the whole class was yawning and he asked them to leave who'd be seen 'sleeping'. Thank GOD the topic was covered in two days. But don't do it if you're in front of the Dias. Sit two or three rows back where teachers give the least of their attention. Okay, at the risk of sounding like a jock, I shut up. :3
> 
> Please review!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing but the plot is owned by me. I make no profit off this.
> 
> AN: Here's the final arc. I am so sorry about the horrible delay. Exams and stuff. Now that they are over, I finally found time to write. Thank you so much for your patience. :) Two or three chapters and finally, I'll wrap this up with an epilogue.
> 
> And a HUGE thanks to all who have commented/bookmarked/kudo'd. Thank you so much! :)

Thranduil hummed softly, rolling towards the warmth radiating from Thorin's body. It had been a rough day for both of them, what with the long discussions of managing their troops should future threats arise. All in all, it was taxing and much like Thorin, Thranduil was finally glad to close his eyes and let sleep embrace him.

A lazy smile crossed his lips when he felt the other snuggling up to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Sighing contently, Thranduil stretched one of his own arms over that of Thorin's and slowly lulled to sleep.

He startled awake, his heart beat loudly when an incredible sound of chaos surrounded him. In a flash, Thranduil sat up. He didn't even have to listen hard for within moments, he could well hear the panic stricken screams filling the corridors.

Quickly he looked over at Thorin whose slumber was now disturbed as his face marred irritation.

"Wake up, Thorin. Something folly has stricken!" He jerked the other, yelling loudly against his ears, which made Thorin groan and look at the other blearily.

"W-what?"

Suddenly, something crashed right outside of their chamber, followed by the uproar of panicked shouts, which removed every trace of sleep from Thorin's eyes as he got out of the bed.

"What in Mahal's name is going on?" Thorin asked, quickly pulling on his cloak. He flinched immediately when more shattering and screaming sounds echoed throughout the air.

Thranduil shook his head, gesturing that he too had no idea, while he got down from the bed as well. Just when he was about to pull on his robes, a guard crashed through the doors and looked at both with terror filling his eyes.

Taken aback by the shrillness of the anarchy coming as the door opened, Thranduil and Thorin stared at the guard, whose eyes were wide like their own and whose body was covered in cuts and blood.

"Your Majesties!" The dwarf bellowed, his breath swollen and throat dry from fear. "We are under attack!"

* * *

Thorin stormed past the corridors, determined to make it to the weaponry as fast as his legs could carry him. All around, he saw people running, guards hastening towards the opposite side of him, swords raised and eyes blazing with the terror and shock which filled them.

He took a sharp turn at a corner and it was then that the full magnitude of the situation dawned on him. From where he stood, screams filled the air. Mingled with screeches of babies crying came sounds of women panicking, pots breaking, metal crashing against metal and the whole air seemed to be dwindling with such anarchy the likes of which Thorin had never seen before.

A few more guards made their way past him and Thorin had just enough time to stop one of them.

"What is the matter?" He asked, at which the guard's eyes flickered at the fear of some malice.

He took in a few breaths and somehow managed to utter, "Orcs and trolls. At the south wall."

Before Thorin could ask him anything else, the guard gave a hastened bow and scurried off to join the flanks.

Thorin's heart leapt in his throat. Without wasting any more time, he ran off to put on his armour and weapon.

Thranduil was right. There was another attack.

The dwarves stood firmly in their post, overlooking the weakest part of the wall as it was being plummeted again and again by the dark army.

The pounds of the walls grew louder and the uproar of cheers grew stronger. Soon, the wall would break. Soon they'd flood in like a terrible wave, wrecking havoc and destruction of anything and everything they would set their eyes upon.

The soldiers remained focused. The front row of sword bearers kept their weapons raised in a taut position, unwavered by the frightfulness which surrounded them. Behind them, stood the archers, their bow strings in high tension. With the slightest order, their deadly weapons were ready to pierce through the grim evil. In a perfect synchronous position, the axe and shield wielding dwarves stood guard behind the archers. When their need would arise, the archers would step back and a barricade of shields would emerge that would protect them from massive blows as well as slaughter the opposition without a second thought.

"Steady." Thorin ordered, his whole body alert as he narrowed his eyes attentively at the spot where the attack would be launched.

Already he could see a crack forming at the wall. After numerous strong blows by orcs and trolls alike, there was so much that the strong border could hold. Unlike the other walls, this one—though strengthened—was not carved out of the mountain. It was made with boulders, but it lacked the natural immunity as other walls.

 _And those Mahal forsaken inbreeds have enough brain matter to figure this out,_ Thorin thought acidically.

His heart skipped for a moment as concern filled him for those who had been ordered to escape. His nephews refused to leave his side despite any order. It was their duty, they had said and it'd be their honour. Thorin had no option of his own as the two young dwarves ran off and took their position among the soldiers and formed a steady flank. Whatever Thorin would say at that point would be futile.

Women, children were the priority. Balin had been ordered to do so as well. He put up a valiant fight but upon being ordered by his king, he had no choice but to oblige. But the one who lashed and hissed was the one who defied any form of authority.

A pang of worry hit his heart as Thranduil's raging face came to Thorin's mind. No matter what he said, Thranduil refused to leave. He'd always remember the pure fury and arrogance his spouses' eyes as Thorin was forced to order two guards to escort him to the escape passages.

With a crushing sound, Thorin was jolted back into the present. When his mind registered the events before him, a tremor of thrill mingled with trepidation filled his entire being.

The wall was broken. The atmosphere was filled with gruesome laughter and shrieks as the dark forces plunged in, destroying everything that they came across.

Thorin held his breath, his nerves tingling with anticipation. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his men fidgeting slightly as the sheer number of the opposition became more and more overwhelming.

"Hold your posts." Thorin warned, eyes keenly following the movement of the other army. From the uncountable number, Thorin knew it would be a battle of no return.

The men began fidgeting more as they too sensed the extent of the battle. They tried to suppress down the fear and grit their teeth, accepting their ultimate fate. Eventually, the thrill engrossed them as well and soon enough, they twitched in eagerness, waiting to behead the dark forces.

Thorin frowed as he saw the new state of his men. Steadiness was crucial and he couldn't have anyone lose their post out of excitement. He began to form another warning—

"Hold your ranks."

-but his eyes widened as a new voice commanded his army. He jerked his head towards the direction of the voice. In a matter of seconds, his heart skipped with a range of indescribable emotions when he saw a tall and proud, armour clad figure standing behind him.

"I told you to escape!" He hissed, frustration hitting his nerves. "There's not much you can do here."

"I can fight." The other said, his eyes flashing with strength and haughtiness—the very same which rendered him his personality and character.

"You realm needs you. No point in losing our life in my kingdom!" Thorin tried hard to make the other rethink. He didn't want Thranduil to die. He wanted the elf safe and secured—no matter what fate had in store for  _him_.

Thranduil's lips curled with a slow smirk and readying his sword, he spoke in a tone that reflected the same confidence and stubbornness as did his eyes, "This is my realm as well. And I won't give it up without a fight."

Thorin's heart suddenly filled up with pride and respect for the other. A smirk formed on his own lips as he again focused back to the scene in front of him.

The army was inching in and within seconds, they'd be launching their attack. Within seconds, Thorin and his men would reply back with the same vigour.

Narrowing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He smirked even further as he finally said with an infallible readiness, "Then let us give them a fight."

All of a sudden, screeching war cries filled the air and showers of spears started raining upon them, effectively blocked by the walls and shields.

Thorin gritted his teeth and readjusted the hold on his sword.

"Down!" He ordered as another flank of arrows and spears came down, piercing some despite the protection.

"Archers ready!" He heard Thranduil command his men, himself doing the same as the onslaught of arrows claimed a few more of his men.

Thorin took a glance at his men, sweeping his eyes over Fíli and Kíli before landing them upon Thranduil. The elf was looking back at him with unknown emotions peeking out from his eyes. But Thorin understood what they meant. He too reflected them back at the other. He wanted Thranduil to know how much he had come to admire the elf. How much he had  _loved_ him.

And Thranduil did the same.

His chest was full of elatedness and pride at the strength of his men. He respected every brave soul that he had the pleasure to work with. And if it was the end for them, he'd make sure to go out with such a flare that Erebor would be remembered for ages and beyond.

"Now!" Thorin's voice was strengthened as Thranduil too ordered in unison.

The archers finally gained their grounds. Raising their bows to fit the perfect trajectory, they released the arrows which swarmed down upon the dark forces, taking away their lives with pinpoint accuracy.

Infuriated, the orcs and trolls shouted, approaching the fortress.

The trolls were whipped and they howled out, angrily stepping forward with the intention of crushing every dwarf. Houses were set on fire. Cries of malice and horror engulfed the whole atmosphere. Ladders were slammed against the wall.

Thorin's army readied themselves to receive those who would dare to cross in. Swords and axes ready, they promised to put up a good fight and they expected nothing less than death.

The battle had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It's all 'cause of that blasted One Ring. With the fall of Erebor and Mirkwood— the two most powerful realms— Sauron would have a hoe down with his little bling. As you can guess, this will make way for LotR but I won't really get into details of that transition. I'll imply it.
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts on this. Please leave a review~


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's works. Just the orc OC's and this plot.
> 
> AN: So...more battle and some fluff. The fic is almost completed...like 90 percent of it is. I reckon another chapter and then I'll wrap it up with an epilogue.
> 
> One more chapter to go guys! Thanks to all who have supported and encouraged me. Love you!

Thranduil slashed the chest of one orc but before he could celebrate, his instincts took over and he spun around. Just in time, he caught another gross creature raising its weapon above his head. Before it could strike down with a fatal blow, Thranduil's agile reflexes caused him to dodge the blow and with one swift move, he thrust his blade deep into the orc's heart and saw it fall limply as its life gave away.

He looked to his left and saw Thorin tackling a foe, slashing and swinging violently while driving it over the edge of the walls. After the orc toppled over, Thorin's eyes locked with Thranduil's for a second and at that moment, a relief flooded over Thranduil's heart as he gave the other a slight nod and a smile before engaging in his own battle.

But as time went on, the orc attacks became fiercer and even though the dwarven army fought relentlessly, the number of the orcs was too overwhelming.

The sky was a shade of red, as if reflecting the colour of the ground where many warriors lay in their own pool of blood. Spears and arrows soared in the sky, coming down like an enraged swarm of wasps, piercing through the heavy barricades and armours and claiming casualties from both sides.

Metal clashed against metal, screams echoed all around and as if the orcs were not a problem by themselves, the trolls reigned havoc, crushing cities and dwarves alike under their enormous weight.

At every chance he'd get, he would let his eyes sweep all around him, relaxing only when he'd see the fighting form of Thorin and his nephews who'd also give him discreet glances of assurance whenever they could.

Suddenly, blades clashed against each other and within a blink, Thranduil found himself applying all of his strength as an orc tried taking him out.

As any inbred of malice, this one possessed an unnatural strength and as Thranduil pushed back, he found his firmly planted legs frictioning against the floor.

The orc flashed its teeth and with a glint in its eyes, took Thranduil in. At that, the elven king narrowed his eyes and let out a venomous sneer, disgusted at the prospect of being the centre of attention of such filth.

The orc seemed undeterred. Still pushing back, it licked its lips and chortled, the very sound of which caused Thranduil's bile to rise up his throat.

"This one's mine, Phukof. Now now, elf king. Best if yu' give up while yu' still can." Its voice was screeches to the ear and the look on its face churned Thranduil's insides with pure hatred as his sneer grew into a snarl.

The orcs smile grew and it went on, much to the other's vehemence, "Erebor will fall and so will yo' realm. Why not make this easier? Saves a lo' of blood! Might save yo' life!"

Anger and disgust flashed in his eyes as Thranduil suddenly overpowered the other. Before the orc could close in on its open, Thranduil took the opening and unhesitatingly drove his sword into the other.

His eyes still flashed with utter fury and he panted partly to let his anger out while the orc fell. In a distant, he could hear a demented voice yelling 'Dwug's down!' at which, he narrowed his eyes and stepped over the other's limp arms.

 _Dwug_  should've known better than to threaten his home. And if he wished to live a second or two more, he would've had the sense  _not_ to wish for Thranduil backing down.

His eyes widened as he abruptly was tackled to the ground. A heavy weight lay on top of him and just as Thranduil began to shout, a hard hand clasped against his mouth, making him squirm with every bit of arrogance and protest he had in him.

"Quiet down." At the sound of the voice, Thranduil stopped thrashing and shot the other an extremely dirty glare, haughtiness and pride flaring in his unruly eyes. The hand was taken off from his mouth and Thranduil turned fully smacking the other's head as the anger in his eyes doubled.

"I saved your life!" Thorin blurted out, looking unscrupulously at the elf, as if he had done something horrible. "That troll was going to bash your head in, you fool!"

"You do  _not_ touch me like that." Thranduil hissed, pulling Thorin down on him as another mighty fist of the troll flailed about as it was being taken down. "And now we're even."

Thorin snorted and looked bewildered before he muttered something along the lines of 'crazy elf' and 'weird kin'.

Before Thranduil could give a proper response, Thorin's weight shifted away from him and both of them took shelter behind a wooden barricade as another onslaught of arrows and spears took place.

"There's too many." Thorin said, clenching his teeth when their cover was absorbing a few stray arrows. "Our losses are many and the orcs seem to be multiplying in numbers."

Thranduil nodded and ducked when a spear almost missed his head. "There wasn't enough time to alert Mirkwood. What lies closest from Erebor?" He asked, gripping his sword tightly before swinging it at a random orc.

Thorin barely had time to open his mouth when he ducked another bunch of arrows. Having deflated that, he was about to face Thranduil but before he could do so, he hacked off an orc who was ready to deliver Thorin's fate.

"Dale. But none too closer." Thorin replied, his eyes portraying a gentle mellowness as he held Thranduil's gaze. "We are on our own here. There's still time for you to leave. I shall cover for you."

Thranduil frowned at that and shook his head. His heart suddenly throbbed with an ache he never felt before and it seemed to grow when Thorin's gaze landed upon him.

Those eyes...those proud and feral eyes were now softened with nothing but love and concern that made Thranduil suddenly wishing for more time where he and Thorin could be civil and could experience the love that they felt for each other  _now._

"Listen to me," Thorin was now pleading with his eyes, even if his tone didn't give it away. "Your son still needs you. Your people need you. If you ride ahead, you can save them. They must already be under attack."

Thranduil's breath hitched when the images of a burnt and charred Mirkwood came to his mind. It was true. The orcs wouldn't spare his home. His heart went out to his son. As able as he was, Legolas was still young and as a father, he couldn't ignore the worry he felt for the safety of his son.

He soon shook his thoughts away and focused in the present. Legolas had shown excellent capabilities of a leader. He was rash at times but was an ingenious fighter. Thranduil was confident of his well being.

"Mirkwood is in safe hands." He said solemnly, "And I shall not go alone."

The gratitude and pride reflected off from Thorin's eyes warmed the elf king. He looked at his spouse, his eyes conveying the same intensity of emotions that his heart felt and Thranduil smiled, "I shall not go without you and your nephews. Do you understand, Thorin Oakenshield?"

Thorin's lips suddenly curled to a smile of its own and he nodded before shaking his head with amusement, "Perfectly well, Elvenking."

* * *

 

At the crack of dawn, the battle had slowly begun to cease. Sunrays gently streaming down from the sky, the orcs began falling back but much before that, they ensured the trolls to be kept out of the sun's reach.

By morning, Thorin hoped that the orcs intended to take a break. Their damages were heavy as well. And as for his army, the gallant ones who were spared from the last night were hardly enough to match the vast number of the oppositions.

Pushing and slashing the mutilations, he pushed forward frantic eyes searching for two young dwarves whom he had lost sight of in the night. When he caught a glimmer of golden hair, his heart leapt in joy as he trusted himself in that direction.

Thranduil was doing away with his own lot of orcs as gracefully as ever. When Thorin's call reached his ears, he turned towards the other and gave a smile of genuine relief.

"Are you alright?" Thorin asked, checking for no signs of injury, frowning slightly when a spot of red came into his notice on Thranduil's right thigh.

"Almost uninjured." Thranduil nodded, in turn checking for Thorin's physical state. He seemed to notice Thorin's gaze lingering on his thigh and he sighed, trying to reassure the other, "It's not deep enough. I shall heal just fine. But you..." He trailed off, letting a slender hand caress the other's forehead, "Have some cuts here and there."

Thorin leaned in towards the touch and smiled warmly, "Nothing for you to fret over."

His expression faded as tightness crept in. Concern smeared his heart as he looked up and asked, his voice laced with hopefulness and eyes equally expectant, "Have you seen Fíli and Kíli? I can't see them anywhere."

His heart dropped when he saw Thranduil's eyes flickering slightly before it eased into a disappointment.

"I haven't seen them, no." The elf replied and looked sadly at the other.

For a moment, Thorin felt he'd die. He let out a sigh of relief even though he truly felt none.

"I'm worried." Thorin admitted, his voice strained from trying to keep it strong.

He couldn't fool Thranduil however. The elf read him clearly and reached up, stroking the other's cheek and pulling him close for a comforting kiss.

"They're able warriors. Nothing will happen to them."

"They're young! Barely adults." Thorin insisted, looking about, searching and hoping to find two familiar faces in the crowd of retreating orcs and regrouping dwarves.

"Do not fret,  _meleth._ No harm will befall them _._ Have faith." Thranduil's voice was gentle and kind. His face was devoid of any tension but his eyes were containing a saddened look, a worrisome look which clearly portrayed the anguish Thorin felt in his heart.

Suddenly, Thorin's mind was slammed as a realization hit him. He mentally rebuked himself for not able to see this earlier and quickly, he was filled with sympathy for a worrying father.

"Your son is well." He said, kissing Thranduil's cheek when the other kneeled to stroke Thorin's cheeks better. "Do not worry."

It was a futile thing to say. Of course Thranduil would worry! No matter how much he said, concern would not fade away from the father's heart unless he saw his son alive and well in front of him. Just like Thorin, who  _craved_ to see his nephews.

Thorin drew back a little and assessed the impact. His face tightened immediately at what he saw.

All around him lay destruction. Most of the city was ruined. Ground crimson with blood, littered with bodies, broken weapons and derbies. The battle had claimed many lives and among the dead, Thorin could see faces which were once s loyal and close to him. Most of them were not even soldiers. Poor farmers who were only trying to get away but were not given any such chance.

Those who had survived were enduring but out of them, many were severely wounded and the little patch work they had would not hold for much longer.  _They_  could not hold for much longer.

He felt his eyes sting and was surprised when he was pulled in against a soothing chest as gentle arms wrapped around him. Drawing a deep breath, Thorin lifted his arms up and wrapped around the other as tightly as he could, lest Thranduil would be taken away from him as well.

He couldn't have that. Thranduil was the only one left for him. Thorin couldn't lose him also.

Thorin's eyes shot open. He jolted away from the other and ran over to the wall of the fortress. He ignored Thranduil's confused expression. Like him, the elf surely picked up some odd sound screeching form below.

He sharply turned to his men, eyes wide and frantic, face twisted in extreme urgency as he shouted, "Fall back! Fall back now!"

His men seemed perplexed. Suddenly, a large shadow blocked the sun and were growing in length. The dwarves looked up and terror quickly overpowering them, they were scurrying to keep a safe distance, escaping just in time when a loud crash boomed throughout the space.

Dust and rubble flew everywhere, blinding everyone and making them all the more disoriented. Coughing vehemently, Thorin strained his eyes till the dust cleared away. As visibility was again rendered to them, they could see a huge part of their fortress had been damaged by a large chunk of rock.

A smaller and rounder rock lay beside Thorin and taking a closer look at it, he immediately growled as he recognized it to be none other than one of the troll's head.

"You low-lives." Thorin spat under his breath. The very thought of using one's own man in battle brought on a terrible urge to vomit. He quickly ordered, "There'll be more. Be ready!"

And if he had hoped for the battle to pause, his hope was soon shattered. He made his way towards Thranduil and found the elven king crouching down, a cloud of dust surrounding him.

Thorin's heart wrenched with panic as he raced up to the other. Thranduil looked up to the sounds of approaching footsteps and the helplessness which radiated from his eyes made Thorin approach him even faster.

The cloud cleared away. As Thorin's view was cleared, he suddenly felt someone punching all the air out of his lungs while his feet felt extremely heavy.

Thranduil was crouching indeed but it wasn't he who was injured. He was cradling a limp form and held it close to his chest while the other wheezed in pain.

"No." His voice seemed lost and Thorin's mind was spinning completely out of control. The brown haired dwarf was coughing out blood and near him laid a long slab of rock, clearly a piece of the troll's arm.

Thorin suddenly snapped out of his trance and rushed in, gently tapping the other's cheek as he tried his best to keep him conscious. "Kíli! Kíli, do not sleep! You hear me?"

His nephew barely cracked open an eye and with great difficulty, he spoke, "C-can't find Fíli, Uncle."

Kíli was interrupted when a violent fit of cough erupted from him.

"Don't speak, young one. Lie still." Thranduil said while he steadied Kíli and cradled him tightly as Thorin caressed his hands over the small form, searching for the source of his wounds. He looked up and shook his head with tear-glistened eyes, making Thorin to crunch up his face and draw his hand away as a great weight settled inside his heart.

Kíli was bleeding from the inside. It'd be a matter of hours.

Suddenly, Thranduil got on his feet, cradling Kíli up with him. At Thorin's anguished expression, he replied, "We'll retreat to a safer part. I am not hopeful but I can try to heal him."

It was then that Thorin truly felt his words leaving him. He could speak nothing. He could only stare at the other with all the world's gratitude and thankfulness.

How he truly misjudged the other for such a long time!

The battle commenced on. The orcs seemed relentless. They were not exhausted. They were not afraid. They increased in number and Thorin's troops were just about losing their energy.

Three more rock-turned trolls crashed against their defences and although most of his men could dodge them, many were seriously injured. Thorin didn't know how long they could hold off the attack but he could only pray that those who had escaped were at a safer location.

And somewhere, he hoped Thranduil would take both his nephews and leave that Morgoth forsaken place and flee to safety.

He wasn't much surprised when the elf joined him but he was extremely relieved when Thranduil said, "Kíli should be out of danger. Fíli is fine as well. He nurses a few broken ribs and is looking after the young one."

Even though he appeared strong, Thranduil did show signs of exhaustion, which attributed to how hard he must've worked to save Kíli. His eyes shone with appreciation as he gave the other a curt nod. He knew very well that the stubborn elf would not listen to Thorin about escaping.

"It is looking bad, Thranduil." Thorin stated as –a-matter-of-factly at which Thranduil agreed. "Unless a miracle happens, I doubt this will end well for us."

Thorin exhaled loudly before he took the other's chin into his gentle grip and said, "And should it be the end, I can't imagine going away with such an honour...and having one by my side who has truly captured my heart."

Thranduil's eyes shone in appraisal and he blushed slightly. He looked at the other, passion exuding from his orbs of bright blue, and spoke in a voice that poured all the love and respect he had for the dwarf, "I am honoured to be called such a noble person's spouse. I love you, Thorin."

"I love you."

Thorin leaned in and captured the other's lips in a soft kiss, chaste and sweet before they both pulled away and focused on the battle at hand.

* * *

 

Morning rolled into noon and noon rolled into dusk. The orcs were vigorous with a new burst of energy and started their heavy assault.

Thorin's men were exhausted, Their injuries were taking hold of them and as the old ones wore them down, new ones made it all the more difficult for them.

The number of casualties piled up. The strength on their side began waning.

Helpless but not shattered, Thorin was about to command the other to flee while they could before he was interrupted from the distant sounds floating in the air.

It was the sound of horns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: How could I kill off Kíli and Fíli? They shouldn't have been dead in the first place! But uh...well, Dwug had it coming. And I know Dwug's a terrible name. Yes the other orc is called Phukof. He was named out of instinct. XD Please review!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of Tolkien's works. And certainly not a dialogue I used here.
> 
> AN: The last chapter, people Thanks everyone who have been so lovely and patient and supportive. You guys are AMAZING!

Thorin turned towards the direction where the sound came. For a while, he stood still wondering whether it was a figment of his imagination that he heard what he  _wanted_ to hear. He knew he couldn't tarry much. The battle was fierce, the strengths of his men were diminishing, the orcs were relentless in their attacks and even Thranduil— who had not shown a streak of exhaustion up till that point— was slowly appearing to be struggling.

He shook his head and whirled back, once again resuming a fighting stance, but his concentration broke when once more came the sound of horns.

Suddenly, he was filled with an immeasurable amount of relief. The web of pessimism was tearing itself apart. Thorin could see hope for this time, Thorin knew it was not his imagination. Because of its lack of harshness, he knew that it was no orc horn either. No, it was something that he desperately craved for. A much needed help.

He dodged the swing of an orc's sword and thrust his blade into the creature in a swift motion before rushing off to the edge of the walls. What he saw made his eyes grow big with an unbelievable joy.

Just over the edge of the horizon, he could see flags waving against the wind amidst the cloud of dust that enveloped around them. Slowly, the posts got bigger and before long, Thorin could properly see the emblem of gold on the forest green fabric.

"Aid has come! Mirkwood has come!" Cried someone from the back, delight evident in his voice. His declaration was quickly followed by a cheer from the dwarven army. Suddenly, gone was their fatigue. Gone was their pain from wounds and every single one of them took on their stance as if they had not been tired at all.

The horn was blown again and this time, even the orcs stilled at how close the sound came. Before they knew it, a cry of vigour filled the atmosphere. Within moments, orcs fell one by one at the onslaught of sharp arrows. Those who managed to get away could only sigh in relief for a moment before they were suddenly hurled by strong, tall armoured beings slashing their swords and spears into the enemy and taking them out with ease.

Thorin's heart skipped with a new found energy. He too gripped his weapon tightly and with a beat of his heart, leapt towards the herd of orcs, swinging his sword, dodging thers' blades, blocking attacks and taking out his enemies within the blink of an eye.

A flash of gold caught his eyes and with a grin on his face, he addressed, "The timing of elves still surprises me!"

He heard a scoff coming from the other who too grinned and replied, "The stubbornness of dwarves still do not fail to surprise me!"

"Nevertheless," Thorin said, covering the other's back as he took aim, "I am grateful to see your arrogant head, elfling."

Legolas laughed. "As I am to see your proud self, Thorin Oakenshield. I can never forgive myself if I let anything happen to the husband of my father whom he has grown quite fond of. As have I."

Thorin smiled and said, "As have I."

* * *

The battle waged on for hours. Orcs clashing against dwarves, elves blocking swords with orcs, arrows flying, screams of orcs filling the air, metals clanking restlessly in the background...all around there was massive carnage.

However, the battle ended. The orcs lost. Sauron lost. Those who were lucky to survive fled into the darkness, followed by elf scouts who hunted them down and were done with them. Those who still managed to dodge attacks scurried off to Mount Doom.

"This is not the end," said Thranduil tending to Legolas' wounds, glaring at his son who still hissed like a child when his wounds stung. Thorin had been bandaged before and was now resting on a rock opposite to the others.

"No and it will never be," replied Thorin, sweeping his eyes all around. They had suffered great damages. The loss of partial architecture of Erebor was a heavy toll however the loss of lives were many. He closed his eyes and offered silent prayers for the fallen ones. When he opened them, a simmering flame of anger was burning in those orbs, resolve hardening in them as he spoke, "Not until we vanquish Sauron completely."

"It will not be easy," reminded Thranduil, "for he possesses the One Ring. And we have seen its wrath. Once Sauron gathers his strength, he will come with his full power and he will not cease till all lies in ruin."

"Though we are aware and we shall have time to make necessary arrangements of our own," Legolas finally spoke up, drawing the attention of the other two, "And we shall soon have one who has seen the ring closely. This creature...Gollum , as Lord Elrond said, has been corrupted by its power. We shall have an insight as to what we are dealing with."

Thranduil nodded firmly and asked for confirmation, "Have you any word of how long before the Man brings him to our cellars?"

"Soon enough, Ada. He has already started making his way."

"Then we shall wait. In time all evil comes forth(1). We wait."

* * *

Years had passed and within that long span, Thorin and Thranduil's all but lessened. Those who still had doubts of the relationship between elves and dwarves had no rumour to spread. They accepted Thranduil heartily as the elves had done for Thorin.

Erebor was rebuilt. Its architecture was further strengthened and the elves of Mirkwood had helped with food, medicines and other basic necessities during the dire times.

Legolas refused to take the place of his father. He acted as interim and under his young and capable hands with occasional advice from his father, the King, Mirkwood saw good days.

One day mortality caught up Thorin. He grew older and weaker and despite the unaltered love from his husband, Thorin could not withhold his oldage any longer.

He would close his eyes for hours on days and dream about the time he had spent with people in his life—the fights with Thranduil, the love he had with the elvenking, his subjects, friends, nephews...till one day, he closed his eyes and never opened them again.

Thranduil would be left heartbroken but he would mend it swiftly. He would not recollect Thorin's death but the glorious time he spent with him. He would weep but not for long. For he had promised to his love on his deathbed.

And it was one promise Thranduil never intended to break.

Erebor in capable hands of Thorin's elder nephew Fíli, he eventually would move back to Mirkwood and resume his post as the king of the Woodland Realm. He would see a glimpse of what was yet to come in form of Gollum. The rest is well known in history.

In spite of everything, Thorin would always be in his heart and whenever he would close his eyes, he could see one face: handsome jaws, soulful eyes with a warm smile. He could listen to the recurring words which the face would whisper just as he did before his demise, "Do not succumb to grief. For within you shall I live."

And Thranduil did not. Within him, Thorin lived and their love was a tale that would span thousands of years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Yeah you know where you heard that line. ;)
> 
> So...The End for this story. Till next time~

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Thorinduil fic! This takes place after Thorin has become king and the events set off after he was captured yet again by the woodelves. AU-ish, you could say.  
> Please review and let me know what you think of this. :)
> 
> Cross-posted in ff.net.


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